Prologue

Mufar leapt over the charging paragore, spun in midair to avoid its barbed tail, landed into a roll that lost none of his momentum. He couldn’t afford to be slowed down. His armor was scrapped, his spear long gone, his current running low. He sprinted on.

The corridor was dark. Flickering lights strobed the metal panels beneath him. The persistent drip and hiss of something far more corrosive than water punctuated the gloom. A howl echoed through the space, bouncing off the bulkheads. They were gaining on him. He had to get to the Spire. The others needed warning.

A snarl warned him the paragore was close. He threw himself to the side, hit the wall hard. The paragore snapped at him, its teeth ripping his already tattered cloak, tearing it from his shoulders.

Before the beast could recover, Mufar cartwheeled onto its scaly back, rolled, grabbed a protruding spine, and flipped the monster over. He slammed it against the metal floor with such force the panels buckled and bent. Mufar raised his fist, drew on what little current he had remaining, and activated his Crestfallen talent. The corridor lit up with a searing yellow light as his crest filled it, arcane symbols written across the walls, the floor, the ceiling, everywhere. Then the light started retracting, rushing towards him, surging up his legs and concentrating in his fist. His hand shone bright as a fire, blazing as a furnace, radiant as a star.

The paragore struggled, tried to right itself. Its tail lashed out, slammed into Mufar’s thigh. He grunted. The last of his crest flowed into his fist and a ball of burning plasma burst to life in his hand. He punched it down into the paragore. It burned through the monster’s armored chest, melted its flesh, cooked it from the inside. Then it detonated in a blinding flash so bright, Mufar had to shield his closed eyes and still the light burned itself into him. He was thrown back against the far wall of the corridor. He slumped, hands held up before him.

When the light died down, he opened his eyes and blinked away the dancing spots. The paragore was gone. Not just dead. Not just burned. But gone. Half the wall had gone with it, melted slag where once it had been solid bulkhead. Through that hole, Mufar could see the space between the chambers. Darkness, rushing water, fetid air. Beyond the blackness, he saw a small opening in another wall maybe two hundred feet away. It led to a brightly lit room with a flickering green light. That was it! The Spire. So close. But so far away. The space between the titan’s walls were too dangerous, even for him.

The howl sounded again. Closer than before.

Mufar stood and his left leg collapsed beneath him. He looked down to see his thigh bleeding from the wound the paragore had dealt him. Worse, it burned like fire. Venom. Of course it was venom.

Mufar groaned. “Next time there’s a delivery. Someone else can go. I’m gonna volunteer for guard duty where it’s nice and safe.”

Another howl.

“Alright. Alright. I’m going.”

Mufar activated his crest with his right hand. Dull yellow light fizzed in his palm. “Whoops. Wrong one.” He waved the crest away and activated his other crest with his left hand. Bright purple lines flared bright. He gripped hold of his thigh and his crest burned, searing the skin closed. It was a stupid way to use it, but at least it was quick.

Mufar leapt down through the hole he had made into the darkness. He landed on a large pipe, almost slipped on a pile of brown goo. Another howl drifted from behind him. He forged on. The pipe was slippery and it made for slow, treacherous going. Every moment he drew closer to the far hole in the wall and the pulsing green light. So close.

A gust of hot, rancid wind blasted into him. Mufar froze. He half turned to stare out into the oppressive darkness of the space between the walls. He heard a chittering like thousands of teeth grinding against each other. Then six huge, bright orange lights ignited in the dark. Whatever it was, it was massive. A behemothic monster hunting in the null spaces.

Mufar ran. He decided falling to his death was better than being eaten. A huge chitinous claw flashed out and he leapt into the air away from it. It smashed into the pipe, crushed it. Metal screamed and tore away. Steam hissed into the darkness and engulfed him. Mufar activated his purple crest and threw out an ethereal platform. He hit the glowing light and slid to a stop. His current was almost gone again, the platform fading.

The monster lurched out of the darkness for him. Mufar caught sight of twin rasping jaws. He filled the platform below him with as much current as he could, and detonated it, launching himself across the gap and away from the creature. He slammed into the far wall, missing the hole by a few feet, scrabbled, trying to find purchase, and failed. He fell.

His hand caught the lip of the hole and he dug his fingers in. His shoulder wrenched in its socket and he screamed against the pain.

The six orange lights drifted closer again and a huge spiked limb darted out, trying to skewer him against the wall. Mufar shifted to the left, still holding on by his fingertips. The limb speared into the wall, shearing through metal. Mufar swung his feet up onto the limb, jumped off and launched himself through the hole in the wall.

The monster roared behind him. Mufar pushed himself to his feet and stumbled on, clutching at his dislocated shoulder.

Finally, he was almost there. The room before him was brightly lit with soft pearly bulbs on the ceiling. Runnels in the floor let water drain from one side of the room to the other in a hundred sparkling streams. At the bottom of each runnel Mufar saw luminescent lines. The water steamed, giving the place an oppressively warm and humid feel. Above, hundreds of hooks hung down from the ceiling on lengthy chains. He decided he was either in an oven, or a torture chamber, and neither sounded like good options.

The door to the Spire was at the far end of the room. It was huge, twisting the wall. Not a natural feature at all, but one that had grown out of the very metal of the hull. On either side of the door, green lights flared then dimmed, flared then dimmed. The door was unlocked, just waiting for someone to enter it.

Mufar staggered on, limped, cradling his left arm. His current was recharging, and he was wounded in so many places. His leg burned with venom and his chest was tight. But he’d made it. He’d be able to warn the others.

The grand door dwarfed him. Ten of him could have walked through abreast comfortably. He pressed the button to one side and an alarm blared out for a moment. A few seconds later, he heard the clunk and whir of gears starting up. The giant door started to rise.

A cacophonic howl from behind deafened Mufar and he spun about just as a Vhar caster popped into being in front of him. A meaty hand shot out, grabbed him around the neck, lifted him from the ground. He was slammed against the rising door. A second of the Vhar’s arms grabbed him by one wrist, and then a third arm grabbed his other wrist. It held him there, three hands pinning him against the door, and two more hands to spare.

The Vhar was a hideous thing of bulging, discoloured muscle it had stolen from other creatures. It grinned at him without lips, its muzzle pressing close, breath rancid enough Mufar gagged.

“Do you mind?” Mufar growled around the hand constricting his throat. “I’d rather not die smelling your breath.”

The Vhar pulled him close and slammed him against the rising door again. Its brown tongue flicked out between broken fangs. Mufar brought his knee up, smashed it into the Vhar’s jaw, snapping its jaw shut so violently it severed its own tongue. The monster dropped him, staggered away, and screamed in pain, spraying stinking gore all over the bulkheads.

Another howl, followed by another and another. Three more Vhar casters popped into existence in the steamy room. Each one was taller than Mufar, rippling with stolen muscle, too strong for him in his wounded, exhausted state. Still, he grinned at them as they stalked towards him.

“You might wanna…” He raised a hand, pointed to the other end of the room.

One of the Vhar turned, screamed in alarm just as the monster from between the walls, shoved a spiky claw through the hole, snapped it shut around the Vhar. Then all the Vhar were screaming, a noise so loud Mufar could barely think.

He dropped to his side and rolled underneath the opening door into the Spire. Mufar sprang to his feet, slammed a fist against the button on this side of the door. The pulsing lights went from green to red and the door started lowering again.

He backed away, breathing heavily, barely able to stand. The noise from the other side of the door was all screams and clicks and splatters. Mufar sat down, buried his head in his hands and sighed.

One of the Vhar launched itself underneath the door. It snarled at him, reached for him, screamed. Then it was dragged back by the monster outside. The door slammed shut, sealing both it and the monster on the other side.

“Well, you made it, Mufar,” he said. “Good job. Go me. Woooo.” He stood, turned to face the Spire. “Now all you need to do is climb this scrapping thing all on your own, and hope you can figure out how to activate it. Easy.”