I was staring down at hundreds of Myrmaray.

  Thankfully, these were probably hatchlings. Their bodies shimmered with a dull blue hue, reflecting off their chitinous wing twitching as they fed on what looked like molten moss clinging to the rock. Even young, they were larger than wolves, and the sound of their movement filled the air like a chorus of chittering glass.

  We had managed to sneak across the bridge and onto the first island Malorn had scouted. Shine’s wards had done their work. The faint ripple of her magic still shimmered in the air, keeping us cloaked from the larger Myrmaray that drifted lazily through the surrounding mist. Each one was the size of a small boat, their long tails dragging trails of phosphorescent dust as they circled the outer islands.

  The others were a safe distance back. Even Dusk had been left with Zephyra. She had wanted to come, but this was too dangerous. I crouched alone behind a cracked pillar, pulse steadying as I checked my gear one last time.

  I was about to attempt something reckless. Stupid, really. But it was the best plan we had.

  Based on Malorn’s report, every battle after this would get exponentially harder. The second island already had two adult Myrmaray larger than what we fought on the bridge nesting, and the third housed something far worse. If we could clear this first horde quickly, we might gain time and resources before we get swarmed. We didn’t have a timer, but swarm chambers tended to grant more time if you cleared objectives quickly and didn’t stay still.

  I held the orbs Milo had crafted—three small ones that would release a chemical scent that would draw the creatures to them, and two larger ones for detonation. Each orb hummed faintly with alchemical charge, faint blue light pulsing through the glass like a heartbeat. Milo had even etched a small grin on one of them, his version of humor in the face of probable death.

  The plan was simple enough. Run through the swarm to draw attention, scatter the scent orbs to pull them toward the center, and then toss the explosives into the densest cluster before getting to high ground. From there, the others would advance from behind and finish off what remained.

  Simple. In theory.

  I rolled the orbs in my palm, feeling the cool glass against my skin. My heart beat hard enough that I could feel it in my throat.

  Three.

  The nearest hatchling twitched, wings fluttering in the dim light. I crouched lower.

  Two.

  A drop of sweat ran down the side of my face.

  One.

  I moved.

  I burst from cover and sprinted down the slope, boots slamming against stone. The first dozen Myrmaray barely reacted, too lost in their feeding. Then one lifted its head, the plates of its face peeling apart like a flower to reveal rows of glinting teeth.

  The hissing started low, spreading like fire through dry grass.

  Then they all saw me.

  The sound that erupted next was deafening — a wave of shrieks and wingbeats as the horde came alive. The air filled with movement. Dozens of Myrmaray surged forward, their wings buzzing like saw blades.

  I darted between them, heart pounding. The orbs in my hands glowed faintly as I tossed the first three behind me. A thick mist burst outward, releasing a chemical tang sharp enough to sting my eyes.

  The creatures veered toward the scent in an instant. It worked.

  I grabbed the ledge ahead, pulling myself up with the help of my bracers. The stone bit into my fingers, but I climbed fast, pushing past exhaustion.

  Below, the swarm collided in a mass of movement and sound. Wings tore against wings. Screeches filled the chamber as the Myrmaray turned on each other in their frenzy to reach the bait.

  I shifted an explosive orb to each hand. The glass pulsed brighter now, alive with kinetic energy.

  “Come on,” I whispered. “Just a little closer.”

  When the largest cluster gathered near the center of the pit, I threw one after the other.

  Both orbs arced through the air, spinning before vanishing into the chaos.

  A heartbeat of silence followed.

  Then light.

  The explosion hit, releasing a shockwave that shook the island beneath me. Flame and dust erupted upward, painting the air with streaks of red and gold. The Myrmaray shrieked in agony, their chitinous wings catching fire as the blast ripped through the swarm.

  I ducked behind the ledge as a wave of heat rolled over me. My chest heaved. The scent of burning insect flesh filled the air, thick and bitter, stinging the back of my throat.

  The ground still trembled beneath my boots. Below, the pit was a mass of smoke and writhing shadows. Limbs twitched. Wings fluttered weakly. The screams of dying hatchlings echoed across the island before fading into the crackle of flames.

  The others would be coming soon. Zephyra would wait until the smoke cleared before giving the order to move. For now, I crouched low, watching through the haze as the fire consumed what was left.

  Then movement caught my eye.

  Out from the smoke came more hatchlings, drawn by the noise and scent of burning blood. For a moment I thought they were coming for me. But then the first one plunged its teeth into a dying sibling. Another followed, and another.

  They were eating each other.

  The sound was wet and grotesque, a mixture of crunching shells and tearing sinew. The air vibrated with the madness of it. I grimaced and tried not to gag.

  They fought over limbs, pulling them apart with wild ferocity. Wings beat against the ground as their bodies convulsed in hunger. The stronger devoured the weak. The pit became a feeding frenzy of snapping jaws and clicking teeth.

  I shook my head, forcing down the disgust, and summoned my blades. The familiar weight steadied me. Their edges shimmered faintly in the dying light, small arcs of aether dancing along their surface.

  Then I felt it—soft impressions brushing the edge of my senses. The rest of the party was close, moving in a slow crouch through the haze. Zephyra’s presence was like a calm current against the storm, guiding the others with quiet precision.

  She caught my eye through the smoke and mouthed her command.

  “Stay in cover. Let them finish each other. Then we strike.”

  I gave a small nod, barely a movement. She was right. Better to let the monsters do our work for us.

  So we waited.

  The seconds stretched into long, heavy minutes. The sound of fighting faded, replaced by the rasp of feeding. The air shimmered with heat, turning the scene below into a hellish blur.

  Finally, the noise began to still. Only a handful of hatchlings remained, their bodies bloated from feeding. They hissed weakly, moving slower now, sluggish from overindulgence.

  Zephyra’s signal came — two fingers raised — then pointed forward.

  In the same instant, the world seemed to tighten, every muscle in my body coiling like a drawn bowstring.

  We moved as one.

  I vaulted over the ledge and dropped into the pit, landing light on the scorched stone. Grond thundered in from the other side, both hammers sweeping in wide arcs that cracked shell and splintered bone. Zephyra’s blades flashed silver in the flickering firelight as the wind twisted and coiled around her. Arrows hissed through the smoke from Malorn’s bow, each one finding its mark.

  Milo darted between the bodies, vaulting off debris with his staff and following each leap with a sharp strike that shattered carapace. Shine’s light spread over us, soft and steady, strengthening our limbs and sealing shallow wounds as the battle began anew.

  The feeding ground erupted into chaos once more, and within moments the last of the hatchlings fell beneath our blades.

  “Got one!” Milo shouted, holding up a shard that gleamed a sickly yellow streaked with brown veins. His grin was wide and smug. “Told you I’d get more than you.”

  Malorn turned from where he knelt and held up two shards that matched it almost perfectly. His grin was wider.

  Milo’s face fell. “You cheated! I don’t know how, but this is an outrage,” he huffed, then stomped off to search the bodies again.

  A few of us laughed, the tension loosening for the first time in hours.

  We had made it through with minimal injuries, and our plan had gone even better than expected. The heat of the battle was fading, replaced by the quiet hum of victory and the lingering smell of smoke and scorched shell.

  I caught my breath and summoned my blades back into my hands, their familiar weight grounding me. My thoughts were already shifting to what came next.

  While Milo and Malorn searched for shards and other valuable materials, Grond was crouched by his gear, re-carving the glowing runes that lined his armor. Zephyra stood a few paces away, her hair whipping in the faint breeze she summoned, lost in thought as she studied the mist-shrouded bridge ahead.

  From Malorn’s earlier scouting, we knew the next island held two of the dungeon’s primary Guardians, massive Myrmaray, far larger than any we had faced.

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  We didn’t know what else might share that island, but we had to be ready for anything.

  Bryn,” Zephyra called, her voice edged with thought.

  I looked up from where I had been cleaning my blades. “Yeah?”

  She gestured for me to come closer. The others glanced up too, their chatter dimming. The air around us was still thick with the smell of smoke and burnt bugs, but Zephyra’s presence pulled us back into focus.

  “We need to change our approach for the next island,” she said. “I am not sure what it is, but my instincts are telling me there are some unknown variables that would mess with our original plan. The terrain there works against us, narrow ridges, little cover, and open air on all sides.”

  Grond grunted, running his thumb along one of the runes he was re-etching. “Are you thinking of just a forward attack. Lure them in close and crush them before they can use their flight.”

  “Something like that,” Zephyra nodded, “but we need to control where they land if they do take flight. Milo, could your traps handle that kind of force?”

  Milo puffed on his pipe and shrugged. “If I double the binding solution and rig them with explosive cores, maybe. It would hold long enough for Grond to hit something.”

  Grond’s grin was fierce. “That’s all I need.”

  “Malorn,” Zephyra turned to him next, “we’ll need you to help keep them out of the air. Have Fern to keep them disoriented, and focus on their eyes or wings. Anything that limits movement.”

  He nodded, checking his bowstring. “I’ll do what I can.”

  Finally, her gaze fell on me. “Bryn, you and I will anchor the fight. Your regeneration gives us our endurance, and my wind magic can give you openings. But do not overextend this time. You are our shield, not our bait. We all need to make it out of this alive.”

  Her tone softened slightly at the end, but the meaning was clear.

  I gave a small nod. “Understood.”

  Dusk hop over from Zephyra to perch on my shoulder. She pressed her head against my jaw, and for noticed something strange. Her feathers felt firmer and her beak as it pressed into me felt strangely malleable as if it had been softened.

  I only got reassuring emotions from her though so I just put it to the side for now.

  Zephyra straightened. “Good. We’ll rest here for a short while before moving. Shine, can you refresh the cloaking wards. Milo, gather what you can. Malorn, chart us a safe route across the bridge.”

  Each of us moved without hesitation. We had learned to trust her voice, and more than that, to trust one another.

  As I checked my equipment, I caught myself glancing toward the mist that shrouded the next island. A faint hum ran through the air, a low, thrumming vibration that seemed to resonate in my bones.

  The Guardians were waiting.

  And as the silence settled over us, I felt the faintest pulse in my chest, an echo not entirely my own. Dusk’s thoughts brushed against mine, bright and urgent.

  Soon, she seemed to whisper.

  Something inside me answered.

  —

  Shine’s cloaking wards helped us cross the bridge unharmed once again. I was learning just how valuable a team with complementary abilities could be. Every step of this dungeon had proven that personal strength alone was rarely enough.

  Now more than ever, I was thankful for my new friends as we found ourselves deep in an unknown dungeon chamber.

  I stood beside Zephyra near the edge of a broken stone ridge. Dusk had insisted I set her down before we advanced. I didn’t understand why, but she seemed intent on remaining near the bridge. Her feathers were faintly glowing, as if she was sensing something unseen. I trusted her instincts.

  Malorn had already vanished into the higher ledges, seeking a vantage point that gave him both height and vision. From there, he could help control the battle field better.

  Milo was moving between the rocks, quick and focused, setting traps he had crafted and stored in his dimensional satchel. That bag had already saved us more than once. It let him carry entire arsenals of concoctions and tools, all ready to be deployed at a moment’s notice.

  Grond waited at our designated ambush point, his broad frame hidden behind a jagged rise of stone. From there, he would charge once I drew the enemy’s focus. The plan was simple: I would start the fight, aim to cripple one of the creatures with the orbs Milo had given me, and then hold their attention long enough for the others to strike.

  Shine crouched beside Zephyra, hands raised slightly, her soft light pulsing in rhythm with her breath. She was layering the final wards for some additional protection, others for healing.

  Zephyra gave a silent nod, and we began to move.

  Our steps were almost soundless, aided by the faint current of wind Zephyra wove around our feet. Even the crunch of loose gravel beneath us seemed to fade into nothing.

  The closer we crept, the heavier the air became. A dull pressure pressed against my chest, like the atmosphere itself resisted our advance. The two creatures stood at the far end of the clearing.

  Up close, they were far larger than I’d imagined. Each one towering way above my height, their bodies layered in thick, stone-colored plates that shimmered with faint veins of gold. Their movements were methodical, purposeful, like sentinels awaiting a command.

  These Myrmaray were a different breed altogether. They were sleeker, more armored, their wings thicker and etched with strange runic patterns that pulsed with faint light. They were intelligent, scanning the cavern with an awareness that made my skin crawl.

  They had to be some kind of warrior class.

  It was common for hive creatures to evolve into distinct roles — workers, guards, warriors, queens. Which meant the final island, and the chamber that waited beyond, would hold something far worse.

  Zephyra glanced toward me, her eyes sharp, her hand raised in a silent signal.

  Almost in range.

  The wind shifted, brushing past my skin, and cooling my nerves.

  I steadied my grip on the orbs, each one faintly pulsing with alchemical fire.

  The moment was coming.

  My senses reached out and mapped the terrain around me, every contour and shadow pressed into my awareness like ink on parchment.

  Then the Myrmaray entered my range, and my focus sharpened to a point. That was when the bad news came.

  Beneath the surface, scattered in a half-circle around the larger two, a few dozen smaller shapes twitched and shifted. They were buried under the ground, waiting. I could tell that they were another variant. A burrowing kind, lying in wait to ambush anything that approached.

  I raised a hand, freezing our advance.

  Zephyra turned to me, her eyes narrowing. I signed what I had sensed — more enemies, underground — and then mimed something bursting from the earth.

  Her face didn’t change much, but I knew her well enough now to see the strain tighten her jaw. We had expected the possibility of surprises, but there was no time to rewrite the plan in this timed dungeon task.

  High above us, Malorn’s silhouette crouched against the stone ridge, his bow half-drawn. He caught Zephyra’s signal and adjusted position, ready to relay whatever came next. His vantage point made him our link for communication.

  The strategy couldn’t be changed, but we had a fallback: a retreat route toward the bridge and Dusk’s position. It would only work once, and if we failed to time it right, we would be boxed in.

  Zephyra nodded, the decision made. Her wind shifted again, brushing sand from our boots as we crept forward. I worked to calm pulse. All our practice and training was for this moment.

  Then it happened.

  That taut thread inside me, the bond that had been straining for weeks and growing tighter with every shared moment, suddenly snapped.

  Heat rushed through my chest, searing and alive. A shock of light burned behind my eyes. The world unfolded in layers, and in an instant, I was aware of Dusk. Not just her presence, but her being. Every heartbeat, every breath of power that thrummed through her new form.

  She wasn’t behind us anymore. She was beneath us.

  Confusion flared, and I staggered, my vision flickering between what my eyes saw and what my new awareness revealed. Dusk was moving through the stone itself, gliding beneath my feet as though it were water. The rock parted and rippled around her, waves of aetheric resonance folding over her sleek form.

  She was no longer just an ore owl. She had become something entirely new.

  A creature born in the deep.

  Eyes burning with molten gold. I could feel her exhilaration in my soul — the thrill of flight through the stone, the fierce joy of strength unbound.

  She no longer had wings. Her body had elongated into something that mirrored both wyrm and owl, her form elegant yet powerful. Four clawed limbs pressed close to her sides, and her feathers had hardened into something like scales, streaked with pale lightning lines that matched the scars across my own body. The left wing she had once lost was now reborn as a pale, clawed leg.

  Her face had changed as well. It was no longer the rounded, gentle shape of an owl but the sharp and commanding visage of a beaked wyvern. Rows of fine, razor-edged teeth lined her mouth, glinting faintly in the unseen light.

  A single thought brushed across the bond, bright and clear.

  Together.

  I exhaled, steadied my stance, and let the power settle between us.

  Zephyra gave me a puzzled look, and I mouthed, “Bonded with Dusk.” She nodded once, trusting that explanation was enough for now.

  We moved forward.

  Just as we reached the first section where the burrowed Myrmaray waited, Dusk attacked.

  I threw my explosive orbs as she tore through the first cluster of creatures beneath the ground. The shock that followed was immediate and violent. Dust rose in rippling bursts as the earth split and quaked. I could feel her moving through the stone, striking from below with impossible speed. She was a living spearhead of pale light, shredding the creatures before they could even surface.

  Milo’s orbs landed on target, bursting against the flank of one of the massive warrior Myrmaray. The explosion rippled through its body, tearing through chitin and sinew. Its right wing sheared apart, leaving a trail of acid and smoke as the creature screamed and stumbled.

  The two warrior Myrmaray turned toward me, their bodies weaving with sinewy precision as their hooked limbs tore grooves through the ground. I sprinted across the battlefield, knives flashing from my fingers in a steady rhythm, each throw aimed for the vulnerable joints beneath their armor. Sparks danced as my blades struck chitin, ricocheting before another set was in my hands.

  They lunged. I slid beneath one’s sweeping leg, felt the wind of its strike graze my back, then twisted up to slash across its underbelly. Acid hissed against the stone where it splattered. My regeneration burned but kept me steady. I had its full attention now.

  Grond burst from cover. His twin hammers crashed into the beast’s flank, the runes etched along their surface glowing as they shifted shape between crushing mauls and jagged pikes. Each strike cracked through armor, carving deep furrows into the Myrmaray’s hide. He fought like a storm, hammering relentlessly while I stayed just ahead of the creature’s fury.

  Milo’s orbs soared past me, trailing smoke and sparks. The first detonated with a sharp crack, releasing a burst of sticky vapor that slowed the creature’s movements. The second erupted into corrosive green flame, eating through the exposed chitin. His laughter carried faintly through the chaos. “Let’s see you crawl through that, bug!”

  Above, Malorn’s arrows flew in quick succession, piercing through the haze. Each arrow shimmered with light from Shine’s blessings. They found their mark along the second Myrmaray’s wings, severing membrane and tendon with surgical precision. The massive creature screeched and took to the air in a panic, its movements erratic. Zephyra’s wind wrapped around the shafts of the arrows, twisting them deeper as she guided her gusts. The wounded Myrmaray faltered midflight, flailing as one wing buckled. It spiraled down in a screeching tumble, crashing onto one of Milo’s hidden traps.

  The impact triggered a chain of explosions. Fire and smoke erupted as the creature thrashed in the pit, caught in a web of iron bear traps that clamped around its limbs. It shrieked and writhed, the ground trembling beneath the struggle, before one of Milo’s orb exploded in its open mouth, silencing its cries.

  “Down it goes!” Milo called out, coughing through the haze.

  The first Myrmaray roared in response, slamming its claws into the ground where I had been standing seconds before. I rolled clear, knives flashing again as I drove one deep into the joint of its nearest leg. Grond struck from the opposite side, his hammers shifting into long-handled picks. He buried both weapons in the creature’s abdomen and tore them free in a spray of ichor.

  Shine’s light pulsed over us, knitting torn flesh and sealing burns. I could feel her energy constantly flowing, her focus stretched thin as she kept us all alive through the battle’s chaos.

  The ground beneath me trembled. At first, I thought it was another enemy emerging, but then I felt Dusk.

  She burst from the stone behind the creature, her form a flash of a pale silver and onyx. The impact of her emergence sent a shockwave rippling through the field. Her claws tore through the Myrmaray’s back, and the creature shrieked, staggering as she launched skyward in a blur of motion.

  Dusk dove again, striking the second Myrmaray ensuring it would never rise. Her claws raked through armor like parchment, then she dove into the earth again before launching upward out of the ground once more. The aether around her shimmered.

  Zephyra lifted her blades, wind surging to meet Dusk’s ascent. Their energies mingled, swirling into a vortex that crashed down upon the battlefield. The final Myrmaray convulsed under the combined onslaught, crushed between Grond’s hammers, my blades, Malorn’s arrows and Dusk’s fury.

  The creature fell, shattering the stone beneath its weight.

  And we split from there hunting the remaining burrowing Myrmaray that were scattered about the field.

  Then before we knew it. Silence reigned.

  The smell of smoke, acid, and blood filled the air. Milo dropped to sit on a broken boulder, wiping grime from his face. Grond leaned on one hammer, panting hard. Zephyra’s eyes glowed faintly with residual magic, her hair whipping in the fading wind.

  Then, slowly, Dusk trotted over to me. Her body shimmered with residual energy, her scales streaked with dust and guts. Her eyes met mine, molten gold and filled with something that felt like pride.

  She had morphed from an two foot tall owl that fit onto my shoulder to a panther sized beast resembling something like owl bear that merged with a wyrm or wyvern.

  I reached out, resting a hand against her beaked snout. “Wow,” was all I could whisper out.