Rowan’s momentum carried them forward. He dug his tendrils into the ground, heels kicking against the stone as they skidded to a stop just before the burning remains of their opponent. The fire roared like a bonfire, fmes crackling high into the air. Rowan set Calhan down beside him, one tendril slinking away before curling into a ball. It hovered beside Calhan, waiting.

  “You got no elbows,” Calhan muttered, balling his fist and tapping the tendril with a thud.

  “Haha! Look at it!” Rowan ughed, alive with the rush of victory. “Can you believe it! The bastard went down!”

  “Oh yes! You did so well, boys!” Nyve jingled as she danced on the Mire Man’s fmes like a spark come to life. “You’ve got quite the eye, Calhan!”

  “Aye, he does!” Rowan chimed in, pulling his brother close with a sinewy grip. “Always got his eyes out for the lil’ things!”

  “This won’t work a second time, you know…” Calhan muttered. “If Jubilee hadn’t burned its flesh, I might not have even noticed it struggling to regenerate. You also went overboard tossing all the alcohol. We should’ve saved some.”

  While Rowan and Nyve reveled in their triumph, Calhan was already picking the fight apart in his head, He couldn’t help himself, he muddied his thoughts with what could’ve gone wrong.

  “Come on, stop with that—you did great, Cal. We all did! Galvos, the crew, the Onorions—we’re gonna be heroes!” Rowan’s grin stretched ear to ear as he squeezed his brother harder, nearly lifting him off the ground.

  “You’re coming into your own, little giant!” Nyve sang, fluttering over to join them.

  That’s when Calhan finally looked at her.

  “You didn’t try to stop me this time,” he said. The words weren’t sharp, but there was a hint of accusation beneath them.

  “Still upset… STILL?” Nyve’s face scrunched into a tangle of emotions. “I kept my distance! I gave you praise! I stayed hidden and followed the rul—mmhpp!”

  Quick as he could, Rowan tangled her up in a tendril, compressing her into a ball of fluttering wings and muffled indignation. She became a squirming sphere of noisy flesh as he tucked her away, behind his back.

  “Come on, both of ya—no more fighting. Especially not out here.” With one tendril still wrapped around Calhan, Rowan reeled the trio in close, wrapping them together in a warm, squishy knot of limbs and half-hearted affection.

  “While we’re on the job, we gotta work together, alright? And we gotta keep morale high! Take some pride in your work!” Rowan gave them both a firm shake, hoping his words might sink in a little easier if Calhan’s brain was rattled around while hearing them.

  Calhan sighed, relenting at the tremors. “Okay, okay—stop shakin’ me.” His face brightened a touch. He tried to take his brother’s words to heart, forcing himself to look past the damage, the fire, the stench of cooked flesh—and focus on the victory.

  If they weren’t before, they truly were monster hunters now.

  “H-hey! HEEEY! Are you here to save us?!” a voice cried out from a window above.

  At the sound, Rowan quickly tucked Nyve back into his hair. She sat there flustered, wings bent, a sharp little scowl pstered across her face.

  “NO, IT’S ANOTHER MONSTER—LOOK AT IT!”

  Another voice, panicked, rang out—clearly horrified by Rowan’s current form.

  “YOU IDIOT, IT’LL HEAR US—SHUT UP!”

  The brothers looked up, scanning the surrounding buildings. Faces peered out from cracked windows and colpsed balconies—men, women, children—all trapped on the upper levels, too afraid to climb down through the fog-choked streets. The Mire lingered, low and dangerous, still a threat to the lower limbs and children of those trapped above.

  “HEY THERE!” Rowan called, cupping his mouth with a tendril. “WE’RE HERE TO HELP!”

  Rowan gave his brother that knowing gnce, and then grapped him, readying to leap towards the roof once more. “I’m gonna need all the arms you can give me Cal,”

  Calhan nodded, his eyes glowing once more as Rowan leapt them forward—becoming an ever-tangling mess of seaworthy limbs. To any sane eye, he looked like one of the Mire’s own—a writhing abomination born from the very fog.

  What those poor people saw flying at them was a ball of slick tentacles, clinging to the side of their broken home, slithering in through shattered gss and splintered frames.

  It was a mercy that Rowan pced Calhan into the room first, the only one who still looked human, so he could speak, expin, and assure them there was nothing to fear.

  “EUUUGH! Don’t let it touch me—oh gods, it’s disgusting!” one of the women shrieked, batting away at Rowan’s grasp.

  “Look… trust us, we’re here to help,” Calhan said, doing his best to sound calm. “There’s a whole contingent of guards just waiting to take you in—if you let us carry you to them.”

  He tried to keep his resolve, but this wasn’t his kind of work. And Rowan, quite literally, had his hands full.

  “Uuuhhhgghh…” the woman whimpered, staring at the wriggling tendril with a face twisted in revulsion. “Why, Onorus… why do you test me like this…?”

  She whispered her prayer as Rowan’s tendril curled gently around her waist and hoisted her up, wriggling all the while, ferrying her toward the rooftop.

  “All right!” Rowan shouted, skittering along the buildings as he peeked through every window. He’d just finished sweeping the block, grabbing whoever he could and ferrying them safely to the rooftops. “I think that’s all of them!”

  He scurried up toward Calhan, who was still distributing what few supplies they had, checking wounds, and assuring the frightened survivors they were safe.

  “Anyone say they’re missing family? Friends? Any of that?” Rowan asked. He wasn’t fazed by the cautious stares anymore. He just smiled and kept his focus on the job.

  “Doesn’t sound like it,” Calhan replied, gncing around. “Most of them are just scared of you.”

  “Ahhh, well—they’ll come around once we drop them off,” Rowan chuckled, looking out over the crowd they’d collected. “It’s a lot, though. Load me up with some more hands, Cal.”

  “Uh…” Calhan squinted at him. Rowan’s body was already hard to recognize—at this point, he'd be spawning limbs on top of limbs. “Okay… You’re not feeling weird, though, right?”

  “I’m great!” Rowan spun dramatically, his tendrils swirling like a makeshift skirt. “Just a few more, Cal—we can get ‘em all out of here.”

  “Alright… just tell me if something does feel off. We’re in new territory here.”

  Calhan’s eyes lit up once more. Kraken limbs bloomed out, tendrils sprouting up from tendrils, writhing and ready.

  “Oh, Onorus… please…” the same woman grumbled, nearly retching as another tendril reached for her. She watched in horror as her family and friends were gently lifted into the air and whisked across the rooftops of the Aurifex. Some were indifferent, just grateful to be leaving. Others were too tired to care. And a few smaller voices, once the initial fear passed, began to cheer.

  “This is so cool!” a little boy shouted, his hair tousled by the wind as Rowan picked up speed, leaping from rooftop to rooftop with wild, gleeful momentum.

  “Hey! Squid man!” the boy yelled. “THANK YOU!”

  He held his arms out wide like wings, pretending to fly as Rowan gently bobbed him up and down, pying along with the child’s imagination. A smile crept onto Rowan’s face,

  “Look at us. Real proper heroes. Not just grunts hunting for scraps.”Rowan held Calhan closer to his head than any of the others, the forty-some survivors riding in his writhing mass as it bounded across the rooftops of the Aurifex.

  “Yeah… it feels good.”Calhan gnced back at the people they’d saved. Not all of them were smiling. A few looked nauseous from all the motion, clutching their mouths or groaning, but they were alive. Breathing. Almost out of harm’s way.

  “Heh! You should start practicing how to answer questions! We’re gonna have quite the heroic homecoming when we get back to the captain.”Rowan chuckled—but it came out weaker than usual. Almost breathless.

  “You still feeling okay?” Calhan asked, catching the subtle waver in his voice.

  “I told you, Cal, I’m fi—”

  His words cut off as his grasp missed the next jump.

  “Oh shit.”

  “AHHHH, WE’RE GONNA FALL!”“WE’RE GONNA DIE!”“I TOLD YOU THIS WAS A BAD IDEA!”“SOMEONE SAVE US!”

  Calhan didn’t think. He just acted.

  He pulled more limbs from Rowan, summoning them in a panic. They grew over the others now, like overpping tumors, tangled and bloated. Tendons flexed as the new limbs scrabbled for purchase, cwing at the brickwork—until one finally tched on.

  The momentum swung them sideways, crashing them into the side of the building like a fil. Rowan took the blow. He gritted his teeth and threw all the passengers wide, using whatever limbs he had left to absorb the hit, shielding them from the worst of the impact.

  “You’re not okay… Rowan! You should’ve told me!”

  Calhan scanned the crowd. Everyone seemed safe. At worst, a few bruises from the sudden impact, but Rowan… He just smiled through it.

  “I’m just a bit tired. Long day, you know!”

  Cal could see it; the strain in Rowan’s face as he pulled them all back to the rooftops.

  “We’re almost there,” Rowan muttered, forcing his limbs to move. “Just a bit more. Then maybe I’ll take a breather.”

  “Once these wear off… no more for today,” Calhan said quietly. “You did enough, Rowan. I’m sorry…”

  “Ah, quit it!” Rowan chided, still grinning. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Cal. Without both of us…”

  He nodded toward the group of rescued Onorions, whom he now carried behind them, deliberately keeping them a little farther away.

  “They’d still be stuck. Waiting to die. A little fatigue, sore muscles, that’s not too bad a price to pay.”

  Calhan wasn’t convinced.

  I swear… even if he was burning in agony, he wouldn’t tell me.I know this is too much. It feels like too much. I can barely even see what parts are him anymore…

  “Quit gawkin’, Cal.”

  “Alright… Let’s just get them out of here…”

  They moved fast now. No more stumbles. No more falls. They’d finish the job.

  ?? ?? ??

  “Excuse me! Be careful with her! She is quite delicate! And you—yes, you—massage her gently or the silk will come out ruined! And you there, fetch her more sustenance! She’ll be starved to nothing at this rate of production!”

  Marcurio was suddenly infused with a shocking degree of commanding vigor—at least when it came to the care of his precious worm. He had an entire crew of men attending to her as she was carted deep into the heart of the Aurifex proper, where Galvos, the Kraken Callers, and the Onorion contingent had begun establishing a base of operations.

  The dead had been taken away. The injured rested inside abandoned shops, tended to by what few Alleviators had been assigned to the mission.

  “Why did you bring that thing here, you lunatic?” Galvos snarled. “And where the hell were you when your men needed direction? Aren’t you supposed to lead them?”

  He was furious—beyond the point of mockery. What once seemed like a sick joke, assigning Marcurio to lead this mission, now felt like something worse: a political move designed to get them all killed. Galvos knew exactly who had sent Marcurio now—and that knowledge made his blood boil.

  “Ah… well,” Marcurio stammered, caught off-guard, before trying to stand tall and composed. “Yes, see, my men did manage just fine without me. And I had a very pressing matter to attend to—namely, the transport of this marvelous worm you’re so angry about!”

  He took a cautious step back, noticing his words were doing little to calm the volcanic fury brewing on Galvos’s face.

  “Ah—wait, before you continue to yell!” Marcurio held up a hand. “It’s true we weren’t given many Alleviators for this grand expedition, so I brought Putress for precisely that reason!”

  He snapped his fingers. A servant rushed forward, holding up a shimmering coil of white silk, still warm and slick from the worm’s oozing pores.

  “You see this thread?” Marcurio beamed. “It has near-magical restorative properties! With her production rate, I can tend to every wounded man we find. Truly, a gift from Onorus himself! Via Putress, of course.”

  Galvos’s grip tightened around his arquebus, white-knuckled and burning.“Show me, then. Show me why you’re even here.”

  “Right!” Marcurio cpped his hands, and more of his servants snapped to attention. They hurried off, returning moments ter with a wounded man—one of the survivors found hiding in the abandoned shops.

  “Look at this poor fool,” Marcurio gestured grandly. “One foot already in Auracanthea’s gracious domain!”

  The man clearly hadn’t seen battle. More likely trampled in the chaos—his body marked by cuts and bruises, one arm broken so badly the bone jutted clean through the skin.

  “Watch this!”

  Marcurio wrapped the limb in silk and, with a sudden snap, forced the bone back into pce. The man barely had the strength to object. His cry was weak, more a whispered whimper than a scream.

  Galvos stood stiff, unimpressed and simmering—but as the seconds passed, he watched in silence as the bruises began to fade. The bone knit slowly under the silk’s embrace. The flesh flushed with faint color.

  Whatever this worm was… it worked.

  “Gods damn it…” he muttered. He’d wanted Marcurio to be useless. He deserved to be useless. It would’ve given him an excuse to throw him off the roof for abandoning his post, his men, his mission. But this? This freakish creature might just save lives.

  “Keep out of the men’s way,” Galvos growled. “And make sure your worm has enough silk for everyone we find. Do you understand me?”

  “Oh, of course, Captain!” Marcurio beamed, throwing an exaggerated salute. “Not a single soul shall go unmended!”

  Galvos rolled his eyes and turned away, frustration simmering in every line of his face. It had all gone to shit, and somehow, the worm was the most reliable thing he had.

  “Captain! Rowan’s back!”

  Rick’s call turned his head just in time to catch the writhing mass of tentacles descending from the rooftop—Rowan, carrying another cluster of survivors.

  A wave of cheers, groans, and exhausted panic followed in his wake.

  “Oh, thank you, Onorus… No more tentacles. No more disgusting tentacles!”

  That woman—of all of them—was the first to flee Rowan’s grasp.

  The others, the Kraken Callers, looked on at his descent. Some erupted in wild cheers for the people he’d saved. Others stared in hushed disgust, unsettled by what he’d become.

  He looked as monstrous as the things they’d just fought.

  But they couldn’t argue with the results.

  He’d saved lives. And those less prone to judgment began to thank him properly.

  “Thank you, Squid Man! You’re the best!” the boy shouted, shaking one of Rowan’s tentacles like it was a hand before darting off after his mother.

  An old man pced a gentle hand on the writhing limb.

  “You two… you’re good men. Thank you.” Then he hobbled off, searching for an Alleviator.

  “It’s what they pay me for…” Rowan ughed—forced and breathless—before slumping back against the wall, sinking into the folds of his own weight.

  “Rowan!” Calhan rushed to his side, trying to keep his brother’s head above the tangle of fading flesh.

  “Hey, hey… I’m okay. Just resting.”

  “What in the rotting Mire happened to you…”

  Galvos stepped up, eyes scanning the mass of Kraken limbs. A crowd of Callers gathered around, murmuring, watching the exhausted hero slowly suffocating under the weight of his own transformation.

  “We… we took care of the big one,” Calhan said. “And then, well—we had all these people. We needed to get them here. But I think we overdid it. I’ve never bound this many parts to him before…”

  Galvos studied Rowan. It wasn’t awe-inspiring like Rick or Ollie had described. It looked… cursed.

  “Boys,” he said, “get him some help. Keep his head above all that… whatever it is until the bind wears off.”

  Then, looking directly at Calhan,

  “How long does it usually st?” Calhan stiffened at the sudden attention. “Some of them should start fading soon… maybe five to ten minutes more for the rest.”

  “Good. Not too long then.”

  The Callers moved quickly, propping Rowan up, shifting tendrils aside to free his arms and chest. Just as Calhan said, some of the Kraken limbs were already fading, melting away into mist, lightening the load piece by piece.

  “When Rowan starts feeling better, I’ll need you two to look for more survivors,” Galvos said. “We’ve cleaned this pce up enough to rest, but… we don’t know how long that’ll st—or how many creatures are still out there. So stay ready. You’re our ace now.”

  He pced a firm, calloused hand on Calhan’s shoulder.

  “You’ve got quite the ability, Calhan. Your brother was right. It’s good to have you aboard.”

  “Thank you… Captain.”

  Galvos gave a stiff nod and walked off.

  Calhan stood there for a moment, surprised. Of all the ways he imagined speaking to the captain for the first time—he hadn’t expected that.

  “Hey, Cal… I’m starving,” Rowan muttered.

  Calhan blinked, shaking the moment off. He turned to see his brother slumped against the wall, still tangled in fading tendrils, his face pale but trying to smile.

  “Yeah. Of course. I’ll get you something hold on.”

  There was a gentle jingle in Rowan’s ear as he waited for Calhan to return.

  “He really ran you ragged now, didn’t he? But aren’t you just stamina itself! It’s amazing how much punishment you can take, Rowan!”

  She giggled, and Rowan met it weakly with one of his own.

  “Hah… yeah. We might’ve overdone it. I was starting to feel the burn when I grew all those arms to carry everyone.”

  He flexed and curled what tendrils still remained, but his true arms—long since returned to normal—y cold and limp against the stone. Too tired to move.

  “You can overdo anything if you try hard enough,” Nyve said. “Even magic. Binds and all… they can be overburdened.”

  “Hah, well… good lesson to learn today rather than tomorrow, eh?”

  He shuffled up the wall a bit, finding what little comfort he could.

  “Hey. Don’t tell him about this, alright? I want him to get comfortable using his Bind. The more he uses it, the more I get used to it. We’ll both grow stronger. Alright? It’s good for him.”

  “Hmm… okay, Rowan. You have my word.”

  She giggled again, circling zily above him.

  “We’ll see how much you can truly handle… won’t we?”

  Not far away, Calhan was rummaging through the supplies brought in by their contingent. The selection wasn’t exactly appealing—but it made up for its ck of fvor and presentation with sheer nutritional value.

  He picked up a hard, unidentifiable lump of something. It looked inedible. Apparently, it wasn’t.

  “Oooh! It’s you again! The boy from Rindle!”

  Calhan turned toward the voice. There he was—the strange, pompous man draped in strands of white silk, smiling far too brightly for someone in a half-ruined warzone.

  “It’s good to see you! I’m hearing you’re the hero of the hour, it seems! I have so many guests now at Putress’s camp, and well, all their little wounds and misgivings are being graciously handled by her and my servants!”

  “Ah… You’re the worm guy,” Calhan said, blinking. “I liked your creature, you know. It’s… very unique. Never seen anything like it before.”

  “She enjoyed your company too!”

  Marcurio leaned in as if to whisper a secret only the civilized could appreciate.

  “I was actually hoping to find you. I have something to give you!”

  He pulled something woven from beneath his draping silk—a white cloth embroidered with the sigils of the Onorion god. The fabric shimmered faintly in the light, impossibly smooth to the eye.

  “Most of the others, well… they’re getting a rather raw sort of deal. But you—I wanted to offer a token of gratitude! For your kindness to Putress, and of course, for keeping me busy and out of Galvos’s rather… aggressive emotional radius.”

  Calhan held the cloth in his hands, not entirely sure what to make of what he’d just been given.

  “That’s made straight from my beloved worm’s silk!” Marcurio beamed. “If you manage to get injured during this whole affair we’ve been dragged into, you might find it quite useful! And of course, it looks rather dashing. I had my finest tailor whip it up.”

  “Oh—thank you!” Calhan said, surprised. The moment his fingers closed around the fabric, he felt it—a strange warmth. His hands tingled faintly, a dull ache he hadn’t noticed was there now easing.

  “I actually might already have use for this. So… thanks again. Ah—Marcurio, right?”

  “Yes! Yes indeed! And thank you, Calhan!” Marcurio bowed deeply. “I hope most of all that you make it out of this alive. Haha!”

  And with that, he spun on his heel and departed, as theatrically as he had arrived. Every interaction with him felt like a performance—staged for no one but himself.

  But the gift? That was something else.

  Knowing what the worm was capable of, Calhan couldn’t help but be intrigued.

  He pinched the silk between his fingers, rubbing slow circles over the fabric with his thumb. “This is just… amazing.”

  Then he gathered up what drinks he could find to wash down the so-called edible food, and rushed back to Rowan.