…
The light shimmered.
Within the Salt Flats, it felt like walking across the inside of a shattered ceramic bowl - white, smooth, immense. Each step landed with a fine crunch, the crust of salt breaking under their boots. Cliffs of layered salt rose and fell around them, forming trenches and ridges that caught the sun and flung it back in harsh, blinding flashes.
"Wait," Gold said.
Everyone halted. He'd stopped mid-step, eyes on the ground ahead. "The patch here is unstable," he said. "Looks like a closed brine pit."
He shifted his weight, testing the crust beneath him. It felt thin, the vibration of his heel carrying further than it should. Most people avoided the Salt Flats altogether, the hazards were too many, but Gold had crossed them more times than enough times. He'd learned the signs.
"Go around to the left," he said, pointing. "There's a brine pool there. The ground near its edge should be solid enough."
They followed his lead, skirting along the pale ground.
"I've never been to the Salt Flats," Ferra said from just behind him. "It's quite the place. But I don't understand why it's so harsh. How did you even realise that patch was dangerous?"
Gold glanced back. "The ground under us is hollow in places," he said. "Pockets of salty water. We call them brine pits. They sit close to the surface and form thin salt crusts over the top. The salt isn't strong, so it collapses easily - especially under a Restrani. We're a lot heavier than most."
Ferra nodded slowly, then frowned. "But how did you feel it was a pocket? And know the way around it?"
"After a while, you recognise it under your foot," Gold answered. "When you step on the outer curve of a pocket, the step feels different. You're not close to the middle yet, so it hasn't weakened completely. The ones higher up also have very thin surfaces. The light can bleed through more, making them look almost translucent at the centre."
Listening to his explanation, her curiosity only sharpened. "How intriguing," she said. "You're quite experienced. Truly a testament to your rumours, Gold."
"What are the dangers of the pit, then?" Kavi asked, having listened in for some time. "They look like shallow pools near the surface to me."
"Ha! Oh man, those pools are no joke," Fritt cut in, chuckling. "See how it's boiling hot right now? Night is the opposite. Cold as Golst. Nasty business for Cinikin like me who rely on ambient heat to keep our bodies in check."
"Climbing out is the other problem," Ajit added. "The salt here is sharp. I had a friend who fell into one. By the time he crawled back out, his hands were scarred all over. That's why we picked a clear day. A salt storm here will peel you like fruit."
Ferra rested her fingers on her chin, thoughtful. "What an interesting world," she murmured. "I'm truly glad to witness such intriguing beauties in the new world."
Ajit couldn't help a small laugh. "Miss Ferra, you're quite an interesting one yourself," he said. "You carry the air of a stoic warrior, yet you sound like a tourist seeing everything for the first time."
She scratched the back of her head, a little embarrassed. "Haha… Yeah, sorry if I seem lost. Not many people dare to cross the Salt Flats. Most of my commissions were around the Cradle. But with how unstable Underbog has been, not many go there anymore, so my escort work's been dead." She sighed. "I've just been training at the communal centre and taking odd jobs."
Kavi nodded in understanding. "So you lack excitement. That's fair. We of the Cognis live for this, in a way - to find what's new and beautiful in the world. We believe such things can grow into better ways to live."
"Wow," Ferra breathed. "That sounds…"
"Romantic~" Fritt teased.
They smiled, before the trio laughed out loud at Fritt's fun.
"So you're a mercenary, right, Ferra?" Fritt asked. "What's your ranking compared to our oh-so-great Gold here?"
Ferra hesitated. "Gold isn't registered with the Mercenary Organisation, so I can't say. I'm officially in the top fourth. People just treat Gold as a mercenary because he's always taking work."
Fritt coughed into his fist, a little embarrassed. "Man, I've really been out of the loop. I haven't seen Brother Gold in ages. I just assumed the rumours of him going official were true."
From the back, Eyviria finally trudged up closer, her composure cracked by sweat. "Ugh. Don't worry about anyone's rankings," she said, breath heavy. "Everyone here is competent in their own right. Gold is probably the strongest among us, from what I've observed."
Gold stopped walking.
"It seems we're here," he said. Ahead, the salt dropped away into a wide crack in the ground. A metal beam had been anchored into the salt crust, a thick rope tied to it and disappearing over the edge.
"This is the sinkhole the Kalim family found. It leads into the caverns of the underground ocean below us." Gold knelt, tugging on the rope to test it. It held firmly. "This should do. One by one, descend the slope using the rope."
Heat gave way to a hollow chill rising from below. The Flats exhaled as they stepped toward the sinkhole.
…
One by one, they lowered themselves through a jagged opening in the ceiling of a vast cavern, boots sliding down the slope. They landed together on a heap of loose salt granules.
Down here, the world changed. The white crust ended, giving way once more to stone and rock.
Ajit stepped forward first, compass already in hand. He turned in place a few times, checking the bearing against whatever he'd sketched so far. Then he shrugged his backpack off his shoulders, knelt, and spread a roll of paper on a flattish rock.
"We should be about… here," he murmured, marking their entry point with a small cross.
He packed most of his things away again, keeping only the compass, a measuring rod, and a charcoal stick. Standing, he pointed into the dark ahead. "If we continue in this direction, we'll be roughly under Aridra in about twelve hours."
They set off, boots crunching over stray salt granules until the ground settled into colder stone. The cavern widened and narrowed in turns, their lights painting the damp walls in warmer hues.
"How are your samples supposed to look, Eyviria?" Gold asked over his shoulder, remembering why they were here in the first place.
Gold wanted to push for more, but he kept getting distracted by her outfit. As soon as they'd entered the cave, she had pulled on a coat, if it could even be called that. It hung almost to her ankles, wide enough that she looked like a walking bell. The sleeves were long, covering everything down to her thick, blacksmith-style gloves. The neck of the coat rose all the way up to just below her eyes, making her voice sound a touch muffled. Copper goggles rested on her head, ready to be pulled down.
She looked, in Gold's quiet opinion, absurdly overdressed for a cave.
Also, he wasn't the only one thinking about it.
"Hahahaha!" Fritt's laughter bounced off the walls. "I'm sorry, but why do you look like that?"
He wiped at the corners of his eyes, leaving faint black streaks there. Eyviria's reaction was small, but noticeable - the twitch of her ear, the hint of red at the tips.
"This is my special armour," she said, irritation sharpening her words. "Commissioned from the Cognis resource department. Do not belittle it. It allows me to fully harness my magic without burning myself or inhaling smoke."
"Oh yeah?" Fritt grinned. "So how'd you guys at the nerd corp even figure out magic in the first place?"
At that, everyone's attention slid to Eyviria.
She let out a long breath, as if forcing herself not to rise to the bait. "All of you here have been chosen to be part of my program," she said. "Magic is… exclusive. Everyone reacts differently to it and adapts in their own way. That is why I want strong specimens to study."
She pointed directly at Gold. "You especially interest me."
Gold listened without interrupting.
"Every soul I've seen so far has its own temperament," she continued. "The flame in our hearts burns differently for each of us - different colours, different warmth. But yours…" Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Your flame burns golden. I have never seen that before."
There was a collective murmur.
"Ohhhh! What about mine?" Fritt leaned in, eyes bright. "What colour is my flame?"
She stared at him for a beat, taken aback by his enthusiasm. "I can't see your flame," she said. "Cinikin have a scorched layer around their souls, for reasons I don't yet understand. But you do have an orange glow underneath that layer."
Fritt looked genuinely pleased with that.
Eyviria then became aware of Ferra's expectant stare. "Yours is red," she added.
Ferra's eyes lit up in a way that didn't match her stoic exterior. She tried very hard to keep her expression level and only half succeeded.
"Wait," Gold said, bringing Eyviria's focus back. "What does the colour mean?"
She calmed again, slipping back into lecture mode. "Think of it as how our souls express our nature," she said. "My flame is silver. People with silver flames tend to be more strategic, more composed."
Gold had more questions ready, but she cut ahead of them.
"First, what I need," Eyviria said, "is for you to try learn how to control your influence."
He frowned. "Influence?"
"Everyone has it," she replied. "It's the shape of your presence. When I perform my fire magic, I extend my influence beyond my soul and into the air. That lets me compress space and ignite it."
Gold shook his head. "How am I supposed to control something I've never even felt?"
"You have felt it," she said. "The Restrana have a powerful technique passed down through generations - your bellow arts."
He thought of the sauna, the heat in his chest, the way his muscles surged under strain.
"A Restrani can enhance their body with heat," Eyviria went on. "To do that, you developed a breathing technique, like a furnace being fed air. But that alone wouldn't yield those kinds of boosts. There is an instinctive mechanism in your soul that uses your influence to heat an organ near your sternum. That heat spreads through your body and strengthens you."
It clicked, piece by piece.
"So I've been controlling my influence this whole time," Gold said.
"Yes," Eyviria replied. "Just not consciously."
Gold fell quiet, calming himself. He took a deep breath, focusing not on his lungs, but on the space behind his sternum. Heat bloomed there, familiar and heavy. He tried to reach for something beneath it - a shape, a second sensation, anything.
A few more cycles of breath later, he exhaled sharply. "I can't sense it," he said. "Only the heat."
Eyviria watched him carefully. "That's fine. It took me weeks of meditation just to notice my own, faintly," she said. "You're not behind."
"Once you-"
She didn't finish.
Gold's focus snapped away. The warmth in his chest dropped as if a breeze brushed past.
He looked to the side. An underground lake stretched along the cavern, the surface smooth and black. Still.
Something in his instincts recoiled.
The water rippled.
Then it bulged. The reflective surface split as something pushed up from beneath - a shadowed tendril, slick and fast, lancing toward Eyviria.
Gold moved.
In three strides he was between her and the water, blade clearing its scabbard. His first swing came from below, slicing up at the incoming tentacle. Steel met brine-slick flesh, cutting through the outer layer. Droplets of viscous gel flung outward, cold and foul. Before the limb had fully recoiled, he turned his wrists and brought the sword down again, trying to sever it completely.
The tendril withdrew into the water a moment too soon. His second stroke cut nothing but air.
The others reacted quickly. Ajit and Kavi fell back to the wall, forming a human shield around their supplies and packs. Fritt and Ferra rushed in to flank Gold and Eyviria, taking positions to either side.
No one breathed.
The lake erupted.
The thing pulled its body out of the water and onto the stone where they had been walking seconds ago. Dark blue skin gleamed under their lights, slick with brine and mucus. Its body was long and flattened, somewhere between serpent and fish, with a line of writhing tentacles sprouting along its back and sides. Bands of lighter blues and pale whites traced across it in patterns, as if painted to entrance.
Its mouth yawned open, revealing rows of retractable teeth that gnashed together with a low, grinding vibration. Then came a series of clicks, sharp and insect-like, echoing off the cavern walls.
"What the fuck is that," Ferra said, eyes wide. She had never seen anything like it in the Sunder Plains.
Gold glanced at his blade. Only a smear of dark fluid coated the edge. "My sword barely cut it," he said. "Its skin is too slick."
The others took that in.
The path ahead of them was clear, but narrow. Behind them, this thing now blocked the way back to the sinkhole. If they had to retreat later and found it waiting, they'd be in trouble.
"We fight," Gold said. "We can't leave our only way out guarded."
"You got it, buddy," Fritt replied, stepping to Gold's left, fists already curling.
"Understood," Ferra said, planting her feet on his right, zweihander coming free of its harness with a heavy rasp.
The creature wasted no time testing them.
Tentacles shot forward in a blur - some like whips, others like spears, the air cracking as they moved. Gold met them at the front, sword flashing. He cut one aside, knocked another off-course, boots grinding into the wet stone as he held his ground.
"I can't get a clean strike," he thought, eyes tracking the movements. "I need to stab, but if I shift to offense, my guard is gone."
He inched forward anyway, timing each breath, edging closer with every exchange. The thing's body was long; the nearer he got to the base of the neck, the more likely he'd find firmer flesh he could pierce properly.
The tentacles grew more aggressive. Angles changed. They struck not just from ahead, but from the sides and above, layering one another, forcing his blade to keep moving in larger arcs.
One came in too close. Too fast.
Instead of a cut, he had to bring his sword across his body to block. The impact rang up his arms.
The next moment, the tentacle coiled.
It wrapped around him and the blade both, crushing steel into his chest. The pressure was instant. intense. Vicious, like a serpent strangling him. If he resisted, his wrist would snap. Without hesitation, Gold released the hilt. The sword vanished, pinned to his body by the constriction.
"Damn." His teeth ground together. "I'll have to burn it off."
He drew breath, trying to pull heat into his core, to use the bellow art and scald the flesh around him with steam-
But, as soon as his feet left the ground, he already knew what was coming next - CRASH!
"Gold!" Ferra and Fritt shouted, voices overlapping.
The tentacle swung him like a hammer. His body slammed into a stone pillar, stone cracking under the force. Pain roared up his spine.
Before he could fall, the tentacle lifted him back and flung him again.
He hit the cavern wall hard enough to make the whole cave section rumble. Gravel shook loose from the ceiling and rained down around him.
A breath escaped his lungs in a hoarse, broken noise. For a moment, his chest felt hollow, like his lungs had simply disappeared. His back throbbed with hot, expanding pain. His vision dimmed at the edges. As stone fragments pattered against his shoulders, he smelled rain. not the cave, but the storm-soaked earth of a previous memory.