Die. Respawn. Repeat.

There's not much time to think about it, because the Concept-Bound is upon us in a moment, and it's only Guard's quick thinking that saves us. He steps in front of me and blazes with a Firmament shield strong enough that a shot I didn't notice just ricochets off, slamming into the tunnel walls and blasting a chunk into it.

Then and only then does the Concept-Bound emerge from the darkness of the tunnel. It's no surprise that it resembles a large, mutated scirix—it's on four legs instead of two, its lower body split in a grotesque imitation of something adjacent to a centaur. Its upper body could pass for a regular member of their society if not for its four arms and eyes.

And there's an intelligence in its eyes. His eyes?

He speaks. His voice is quiet and mournful; even his words ring with the Concept of Regret, and while it isn't as powerful as the Abstraction's aura, it still washes over us with enough force to make us stagger.

"I am Phylus," he says. "I would like to know the names of those I am to end."

Guard's Breath of Life flickers into being, shielding us from the brunt of its effect. Dark-blue Firmament batters against vibrant green—it's saturated with emotion. I think this might be the first time I've seen Firmament be completely visible from force of emotion alone; the density wouldn't normally be enough to make this Firmament shine, but combined with that emotion of regret...

It tinges the entirety of the tunnel. Guard's aura is the only source of light in what is otherwise an ocean of desaturation. This must be the reason the lights in the tunnel were flickering. Even now, I see the Firmament affecting them, waves of color making them dim to nothingness.

"I don't suppose you could just not end us?" I suggest warily. If he's capable of reason...

But Phylus shakes his head.

"That is not an option," he says plainly. "But I will remember your names, should you give them to me."

"Why?" I ask instead. I consider telling him that none of us will die permanently, even if he succeeds; that time will simply reset, and all that will be lost are memories and opportunities. Telling him that seems like I'd just be encouraging him to go ahead, though.

"You know why." Phylus examines me for a moment. His words are filled with Regret. "I play a role within this Ritual, just as you do. And I cannot fight against that role any more than you can. You will come to regret your participation, just as much as I regret my role."

I frown. What's that supposed to mean?

Phylus doesn't give me the chance to answer, however. He just shakes his head. "If you will not give me your names," he says, "then I will simply remember your faces."

He attacks.

I try to react, to call up a skill, but even with as much time as I've been given I haven't recovered nearly enough Firmament to call up so much as a Crystallized Barrier. It's Guard that has to step in the way, a blast of Firmament deflecting the force of Phylus's strike.

But Phylus is fast. He's enormous, but the four legs allow him to skitter and change his momentum with deceptive speed. Guard's counter sends him flying, but it's evident in moments that it was intentional—he uses the momentum to latch on to the ceiling, then moves in a twisting spiral along the tunnel, dodging Guard's attempt to throw him off.

He's headed straight for Novi. A spike of hard chitin suddenly launches itself from his shoulder toward her. I step in the way, lifting an arm to block the strike, and grit my teeth as the force of it jars my entire skeleton, throwing me back. I force myself to my feet just in time to stop the next one, this time shifting my weight into it so it doesn't throw me off as much.

Both moves cost me. Both my arms are bleeding, badly lacerated—without the upgrade to my bones, it would have pierced straight through me and into Novi. It's a good thing the physical upgrade still works without me having to pump Firmament into it, but I'm not going to be able to keep this up for long.

Fortunately, the delay is long enough for Guard to reposition himself. He's in front of me again, his core blazing with his prismatic Firmament; I can feel the heat from his systems as he runs everything at full capacity. "You must run," Guard says. His voice is staticky with concern. "I cannot hold him off and defend you—"

"You cannot hold me off, regardless of what the human does," Phylus says. "But you are welcome to try."

Guard responds with a blast of Firmament. I grab Novi's hand, leading her away; not running, but moving toward Ahkelios, who seems to be moving at speed toward me in turn. He's being careful not to draw on my Firmament—that must mean that's him, right?

"Come on, Ahkelios," I mutter. I try to speed up, but Novi stumbles, and I have to catch her. She clings to my shirt, bewildered and frightened. Echoes of Guard's fight with Phylus ricochet down the tunnel, and I'm suddenly certain that Phylus is playing with Guard, though I can't be sure why. He doesn't even seem to want to do this.

Maybe he's giving us time.

I don't know what Ahkelios is doing. I don't know why his presence feels different, though I fear the worst. Right now, though, he might be the only card I have left to play.

Stolen novel; please report.

If nothing else, the closer he gets, the clearer the bond driven by Temporal Link becomes. I can work out a little more about what's happened. One way or another, it seems like Ahkelios has joined with his Remnant. There's a large, foreign presence within the bond, almost like an infection, except...

I can't tell which side the infection is. Ahkelios? Or Zhir? I'd reach out through the bond, but it's strangely closed to my attempt to speak through it; that, more than anything, is what has me worried.

Then I hear the footsteps. I catch a glimpse of a figure, not flying, but running. There's a tight glow of Firmament around him that outlines his body, but that body is very much real; it's not the Firmament construct that Ahkelios usually is. It wears the same lab coat Zhir was wearing, though the coat hangs open—

"Zhir?" Novi asks, confused. My grip tightens unintentionally on her wrist; I force myself to let go when she winces, aware of the tension running through my frame.

Surely not.

The figure running down the corridor is a little more built than Zhir was. A swordsman's build rather than a researcher's. He's taller, too—just barely taller than even I am, in part due to the spikes of chitin around his head. The closer he gets, the clearer it is that he isn't a scirix.

But he's not a mantis, either.

He has the features of both, leaning a little more toward scirix than mantis; his face has their malleability of expression, their ability to express themselves with eyes and mouth both rather than the rigidity of chitin. His natural armor weaves perfectly with the underlying muscle to give him an agility that neither scirix nor mantis seem to have—like his body picked the best of both worlds.

Even taking that into account, he's more heavily armored than most scirix. His chitin has the texture of his mantis self. It's rougher, more rugged; built to take blunt hits more than sharp ones, by my estimation.

"That's not Zhir," Novi whispers; I can't tell if she's horrified or fascinated. She doesn't take her eyes off him.

"No," I agree. "It's not."

The real question is whether or not it's Ahkelios.

He holds something that looks like a cross between a wand and a blaster in one hand; the other carries a metal box tucked under an arm, and I hear the rattling of a half-dozen different gadgets in it. The moment he's within earshot, he calls out to me.

"Ethan," he says. "You beat the Abstraction?"

My heart sinks. That doesn't sound like Ahkelios.

"Took everything I had," I answer anyway. "Guard's trying to hold off the stage boss. It's not going well."

The scirix-mantis hybrid peers down the corridor and frowns. "Concept-Bound," he says, identifying it quickly. "How did you—nevermind. I should've expected it. That should be easier to deal with than an Abstraction, at least. You're out of Firmament?"

The abrupt way he switches topics startles me. "Yes," I say warily. I'm already examining the bond between us again. It doesn't feel like Ahkelios is gone. I'm pretty sure the person I'm speaking to isn't the Ahkelios I know, but at the same time...

"We don't have much time," he says. "I'll work with Guard to hold off the Concept-Bound. You activate your Inspiration. Not the Knight—one of the ones you're owed. Get a new one. You can do that, yes?" 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

"I can," I say. "But I need to know—"

He cuts me off. "Your friend put up a good fight," he says. Then a shadow crosses his expression, and he sighs. "...He won. He's in here. He's just lending me the body so I can help. He'll take over soon enough, and I'll fade away."

He says it with a bitter acceptance. This is Zhir, then. Or Ahkelios's Remnant, depending on what I'm supposed to call him.

I'm not sure what to say. I wasn't expecting his Remnant to... what, willingly help?

"If you get a new Inspiration it may restore your Firmament reserves," Zhir tells me. "I will use these to help Guard hold off Phylus while you do so."

"...Is that my home security system?" Novi asks suddenly, staring at the box.

Zhir ignores her, staring intently at me instead. "Ethan. Do you understand?"

"I do," I say finally. Inspirations have never done that for me noticeably before, but I've also never triggered one while this low on reserves; I wouldn't have noticed if this was something they could do. "You better not be lying. I'll drag Ahkelios out of you myself if I have to."

Zhir snorts. "At least he didn't lie about that," he mutters, almost too soft for me to hear. "Just trigger the damn Inspiration choice. You don't lose any time while you do that anyway."

It's true. I've abused that mechanic before. Specifically so I could read the Empty City's final Record. So he's got a point.

I reach for the Interface, selecting the new option Kauku's given me.

[Would you like to receive an Inspiration?]

Yes.

And two things happen at once.

The first one is a sudden blast of Firmament, so intense it threatens to blind me—I almost think that this is the restoration Zhir was talking about, except it resolves in a second, and it clearly isn't.

It's a Paradox Warning. One sent from farther in the future than should be possible for me, even with my current levels of Firmament. There's a moment where I'm worried this has something to do with Zhir and Ahkelios, but the message that pierces my skull has nothing to do with either of them.

[I don't have many options left. I'm sending back this warning so you'll have one more choice that I didn't have—but you're not going to like it. You'll know what I mean when you get there.

This is programmed to reach you right before you trigger your second Inspiration with Kauku. I can't tell you too much; Paradox Warning is only meant for you to prepare yourself, not alter the past. Takes more Firmament the more I risk changes. But it'd be remiss of me not to try, so try not to let it reach Kauku. It's a pest now, but let those two merge and it'll risk the end of all things as we know it.

I'm sorry I can't be more specific. Keep doing what you're doing. The Warning is just... an option. Something we can use if we have no other choice. Hopefully this will give us enough time to prepare.

Good luck, me. We're going to need it.]

When I look up again, I'm half-collapsed in the void. The intensity of the message knocked me to my knees. I have no idea what to make of it—nor do I have time, because Kauku is standing in front of me, one eyebrow raised.

"I did not expect to see you kneeling before me the next time we met," Kauku says. I can tell he's smirking, somehow, even if his skull can't quite express it. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

I roll my eyes and force myself to my feet despite the throbbing in my head. "You know why I'm here."