Wes left the Night Market without incident. The mist had thickened by the time he emerged from the granary district, clinging to the cobblestones like a living thing. His boots made almost no sound as he navigated the empty streets—Mercosa's citizens apparently knew better than to linger after dark without good reason. The occasional flicker of candlelight or magelight behind shuttered windows marked the few who dared defy the night's dangers. When he heard crying down an alley, he glanced but didn't think much of it before he heard the words being spoken. He recognized the voice. "Please, help my pa! And my sister Lissa! They got them! They--"

  "Get out of here! Who do you think we are, soldiers? Handle your own business!" A door slammed. Jorn came stumbling out of the alley, his face absolutely haggard. His crossbow dangled from his hand, almost falling down.

  Jorn staggered into the dim lantern light, his face streaked with grime and sweat. His tunic was torn at the shoulder, revealing a fresh bruise darkening along his collarbone. The crossbow in his grip trembled, apparently from exhaustion. When he spotted Wes, his bloodshot eyes widened.

  "You!" His voice cracked. "Please help! They took them, they took my father and Lissa. The Crostliks!"

  "What? What happened?"

  Jorn ran a shaky hand through his hair, his eyes wild. His breath came in ragged bursts, sweat glistening on his forehead despite the night's chill.

  "They knocked on our door—said they were city guards with questions about a missing traveler." His voice cracked. "Pa opened it just a crack, but they kicked it in. Five of them, maybe six. I jumped out the window while they were beating him down." He put his hand over his eyes, trying not to cry. "Lissa was screaming. I know if I stayed, I couldn't have helped. The crossbow was not loaded. But...now I can't even get anyone to help me! It’s been over and hour at least, more like two!"

  Wes nodded. His stomach dropped out in sympathy, and from how awful it all was. At first, he wondered how he could have just bumped in to Jorn like this, then he realized how far away the man had been. Almost seventy yards away. He’d only heard him because of how quiet the city was at night. “How did you know it was the Crostliks? And how long ago was this?"

  Jorn but his face in both hands. His breath hitched as he struggled to compose himself. He gave a little growl before dropping his hands. "I think I was right before. Two hours, maybe less. I tried getting help—ran to the watch, to merchants who knew my father. No one would lift a finger. Cowards!" His voice turned bitter. "As for how I know who it was, I recognized one of them. They were all masked but he has a cut ear. I watched them leave from an alley. They took the cart. Must have planned it out. Put lanterns all over the cart and they're pulling it by hand. One is leading the horse. Risky, not many people travel at night. Nobody wants to get involved." Jorn hissed in frustration.

  Wes said, "Let me think for a second." He paused, his mind racing, then asked, "Where do you think they're going? And will there be more of them?"

  Jorn's jaw clenched. His fingers slid up and down the crossbow stock, calluses scraping against the worn wood. "Service gate," he said hoarsely. "They'll take the old quarry road toward the badlands—one of their main camps is likely out that way, in the direction of their little settlement. Probably meeting more of them at a waypoint before dawn." He swallowed hard. "Past sunrise, we probably won't…won’t get them back."

  "So there will be more of them." Wes sighed. This was one of those moments he wished he could just turn and look the other way. This didn’t have anything to do with him. Even grief-stricking Jorn wasn’t blaming him for this, it couldn’t be Wes’ fault. He knew he could be a dick, just ignore it, but these people had helped him. What's more, the Crostliks stole a girl. And although he could tell it wasn't as big of a deal in this world, it offended his American sensibilities. Deeply.

  Confirming Wes’s thoughts, Jorn softly said, "I know I'd probably already be dead, my pa too, if not for you. But...someone needs to do something! My family did nothing wrong but exist!"

  Wes made up his mind. "Come with me. My room is about two minutes away. We are leaving in five minutes. We will jog. So one and a half minutes to my room, a few minutes to prep, then we leave. Let's go." Jorn followed without hesitation, his breath still uneven but his grip steady on the crossbow now. The streets were empty as they moved, their footsteps the only sound in the damp night air. Wes led the way back to the Stag's Head Inn, taking the stairs two at a time.

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  Inside his room, Wes immediately went to work. He pulled out his backpack and began checking it for essentials—water, food from Cosmic Vending, extra ammo for his pistol. He still had his looted crossbow, too. "I'm assuming the Crotliks took the crossbow I gave your father. I have five bolts for mine. How many do you have?"

  Jorn checked the quiver at his hip with a quick motion. "Eight," he said, his voice steadier now. His fingers brushed over the bolts, counting them again by touch. "And my knife."

  Wes considered the problem. Since walking away was not an option, he was going to do what was right. However, he didn't want to die in this shitty world. He could use his fledgling magic to some extent now, mostly to improve his physicality. Faster,stronger…better. His pistol was powerful, but he only had two magazines and it was better for fighting up close than anything at a distance. There was also the fact this was a rescue mission, not just an extermination, which made it harder.

  He needed Jorn to help, even as a distraction. Mind made up, he fished the Soulforging Elixir out of his pocket and handed it over. "Drink that."

  "What is this!?"

  "It's Soulforging Elixir. Ever heard of it?"

  Jorn's fingers trembled as he took the vial, his eyes wide. The black liquid inside swirled ominously, catching the dim light of the room. "I—I've heard stories," he whispered. His throat worked as he swallowed hard. "This can give you a power, right? But it's expensive...and random. Where did you get this!?"

  "Don't worry about it. Just drink it and hope for a good ability."

  Jorn stared at the swirling black elixir, his fingers tightening around the vial. The liquid pulsed against the glass like a living thing. "Random," he repeated hoarsely. His throat worked as he swallowed. "Could be anything. Could be useless."

  Wes said nothing, just waited.

  With a sharp jerk of his head, Jorn unstoppered the vial and downed the contents in one gulp. Nothing happened for a few seconds, then everything happened at once. Jorn's body stiffened, veins standing out in stark relief beneath his skin as they darkened to an inky black. His eyes rolled back, teeth gritted so hard Wes heard enamel crack. The empty vial fell to the floor.

  Then it was over.

  Jorn gasped, staggering against the wall. Sweat poured down his face as he stared at his trembling hands. "I... I can feel it." His voice came out rough, changed.

  "What did you get?" asked Wes. He hoped it wasn't something useless.

  "It's called...Calcified Fractureghast. Um, it's a transformation."

  "What?"

  Jorn's fingers flexed, his knuckles cracking audibly as dark veins receded beneath his skin. His breathing steadied. He looked normal again. "A form," he explained, breathless. "Like the...Ossivants take. Uh, Ossivants are Underworld people. I got the name with the power. Bone armor. Claws. Faster. Stronger." He was almost babbling. Jorn swallowed hard, throat bobbing. "But it's like...holding my breath. I can do it for a while, but not forever. Maybe over time I can get better, though."

  Wes nodded. "Don't waste the transformation yet. When we start moving, we'll be running in the dark and going like hell. Just trigger the transformation to get your wind back, and use it to cock your crossbows faster once we start fighting. You'll be my support. Got it?"

  Jorn waved a hand and watched it, staring at his own fingers. It seemed the newly gained power was humming beneath his skin. He gathered himself and gave a sharp nod. "Understood." Jorn’s voice carried a new edge, rougher than before.

  "We'll need to move fast—they've got hours on us already." Wes checked his pistol one last time, checking his magazine and sliding it back home with a click. The weight of Whereharth at his hip was new, but didn't throw him off too badly. He checked one last time, making sure he had everything, including his normal EDC then said, "Let's go. They can’t have been very fast, since they're walking the horse. But we will have to run at night.”

  “Running at night..”

  “Just trust me. It’s the only way. Sure, we might die, but we might die anyway. And with my new, um, I mean with my magic, I can see in the dark alright. If any rift wolves come, I have lights."

  Jorn gave a sharp nod, his jaw set. The whites of his eyes still showed too much in the dim light, but his grip on the crossbow was steady now. "I'll keep up."

  Wes led them out into the night at a jog, cutting through Mercosa's back alleys toward the eastern gate. Their feet beat a patter on cobblestones that were still slick with mist, their stressful footfalls muffled by the damp air. Stars shone overhead, and for the first time, Wes noticed a moon, actually two. They were both just really small.

  The twin moons cast faint silver light over the eastern road as Wes and Jorn slipped past Mercosa's gate—just two more desperate figures in a city full of them. The guards watched them go, their job to stop people from entering, not leaving.

  Wes focused, trying to peel back the darkness to see better, his magic making his eyeballs tingle a bit. The quarry road stretched ahead, its ruts worn deep by generations of carts hauling stone. Jorn jogged beside him, his breath already labored from their pace.

  "Faster than I thought," Jorn panted. He ran with his crossbow at the read. The second crossbow was slung over his back.

  Wes grunted and muttered, "Save your breath. Focus on running. It's going to be a long night."