They didn't cover as much ground as Colt had hoped. The path steepened as they climbed, surrounded by an endless wall of trees and underbrush. The dark foliage of the forest morphed into a flush and varied ecosystem that screamed life. Simple rodents and elk lived freely from the oppression of the overwhelming giant trees.

  But danger still lurked. They encountered even more tree snakes, giant birds, and a black jaguar the size of a truck. Colt split the latter clean in half with Cut.

  Each threat pushed them further, drove them to grow stronger. With the way New Nashville was headed, stockpiling strength was the best insurance.

  ———

  You have leveled up!

  You have 3 Stat points to spend. You have gained 1 point of Dexterity and 1 point of Soul.

  ———

  The rest of the group had made gains, too. Most of them reached level forty. Colt tucked away the three extra points to Soul. Putting it at an even 120—both because it was his best Stat and getting to an even 120 felt satisfying.

  Once more, darkness began to spread through the land like a hidden miasma… Now, Colt wasn’t too sure of how safe it was on the forest floor. With the blanket of shade, monsters could slip by undetected—Nate had gotten better, yet still needed safety for recovery.

  So, he did what he had to do and carved handholds up the nearest tree to the first branch, which was only about fifty feet up here

  Every breath Colt took in had an almost replenishing quality, fresh and light with a trace of a restful Edict he couldn’t name.

  At first, there were protests about having to climb up and camp for the night. Julia protesting, specifically. Saying they were fine and he was paranoid. Colt didn’t really care, and the rest of the group ignored her too, which suited him.

  They climbed up, one by one, and he took first watch.

  No fire tonight since sparking a fire on a wooden branch about fifty feet up was a bad idea. There was still plenty of room up here, to safely move about and not be afraid of falling off the tree in the middle of the night. Though Nate had tied them down just in case anyone sleepwalked their way into an eternal slumber.

  Colt sat at the end of the massive branch, the new handy chunk of asteroid in his hand.

  His fingers went over the smooth surface—feeling the imperfections, the little pockmarks that kept it from being perfect.

  Had this really been in space?

  He pictured it, a small shard of a much larger rock, tumbling through an infinite void; countless planets drifting out there, oh-so-far away—only for it to land on this world.

  In the context of these dungeons and these systems, what was their significance?

  His mind was pulled into the mystery, and if he let himself sink beneath that mental surface of water, he’d be adrift in a meditation. Deep in there, he knew a monster lurked under the surface. Movement, that nasty Edict, circled in those depths, wanting him to dip his toes in. Then it would bite, its dangerous teeth enough to catch his skin and drag him deep into those black waters where he’d have to fight it or die.

  It was a challenge, one that he needed to prepare for. Every moment of his meditation was spent working on that, building the mental framework and armor to withstand what taking on his most powerful Edict to raise it up another notch would entail.

  This asteroid was the key to getting to that fight, but he wasn’t ready. Not here in the middle of a dungeon. Not here when he still needed to marshal his forces and better grasp what kind of fate he’d be facing when the time called. As much as he dared, as much as he wished, if one wanted to make the progress they were looking for, they needed to be wise with patience and take the next big step when it was the right time to do so.

  For now, he considered the rock in his hand and pictured himself in that fight with his Edict. This tool would be another knife to stab into the heart of that beast, to let him wrestle it into his control.

  Soon.

  Colt sighed, tossing the bit of space rock in the air and catching it—then paused.

  There were lights in the forest.

  Little flickers of light—at first, just a couple. Colt sat still, watching them, and then hundreds more appeared. Thousands. A radiant blue vast swath of tiny stars in the middle of the forest—some close enough to reach out and grab.

  So, of course, he did.

  Fireflies. Hundreds of thousands of fireflies blanketed the thick night of the forest, drifting in a sea of light and life; for an hour, Colt sat transfixed as they danced. Their azure light was a reassurance, a natural beauty that had swept him up like a storm. When time came for his shift to end, Colt woke up Sarah, and didn’t head to bed. Simply watching for a little bit longer with his friend. Talking about nothing much but basking in the natural beauty.

  Out here, they were free. With this power they were building, it would give the same kind of freedom as the thousands of fireflies flitting about in the forest, bright lights among the darkness.

  But unlike the fireflies, which began to vanish away to the encroaching dark of the late night, they would not fade away. The fact that these bugs, though, had no choice but to give into the darkness left Colt with a small sense of sadness.

  ###

  Jimmy felt uneasy. The hours were getting longer and longer, and he had less and less time to himself.

  But what could be done? People needed help.

  Jimmy toiled away in the depths of New Nashville. His hands slick with blood as he pressed them onto another soldier’s open wound—at least, that’s what he had begun to think of them. Even if they called themselves guards, these men and women were shoved into their ‘hospital.’ With dire wounds and even more grim expressions. The days passed by in a blur of red as he worked.

  Intestines hanging out, teeth ripped from mouths; missing fingers—even an arm that had been bitten off that Jimmy couldn’t fix…

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  It sucked.

  God, it sucked.

  Why was there always so much blood?

  Light poured from his hands into the wound, the little bits of flesh knitting back together like strings forming a rug. The soldier grunted as a part of the light shoved a bone back into a better position. It had to hurt, but these people didn’t complain.

  No, they bore the pain, got up, thanked him, then went back out there and bled some more.

  Jimmy hated it. Room was like a bloody cage, and whenever there wasn’t a soldier, he walked the halls of the hospital, trapped by the need to help.

  Even being in the hospital for so long made him taste blood in his mouth—he could feel the slimy texture in his hands for hours afterward and often found dark brown specks of it everywhere on him every day now.

  He just wanted to find a quiet corner, get high, and forget about everything.

  Drugs were banned in New Nashville. One of the first things he’d found out when he asked one of the guards if they knew a guy—it was the middle of the end of the world, and here this place cared if he rolled up and smoked a joint?

  Soon, the light closed the wound. And like normal, the soldier got up, thanked him, and left his operation room.

  Jimmy ran a bloody hand through his hair. God. Where were his friends?

  There was a knock on his office door, and Jimmy took a solid fifteen seconds to pull himself together, mentally preparing to see another ripped-apart body that would haunt his nightmares for years to come. Just when he thought he’d formed enough of a mental wall to cope, the door opened uninvited.

  It was Denny. The man had a black cowboy hat on and a vest with little black tassels. The mayor took a wide berth around the room. Looking at the puddle of blood on the operation table, he raised an eyebrow, which was a good unspoken question. Why even bother with a table in the first place? He could heal them standing, on the ground, or in a chair; there were no surgeries anymore. And Jimmy had asked, and another one of the healers said quite stupidly, ‘Tradition.’

  What about any of this was tradition?

  “See that you’ve been working hard and keeping your hands honest, huh, son?” Denny asked.

  Jimmy only stared at him.

  “Listen, we appreciate what you’re doing here; you saved a lot of lives. With that comes the appreciation of the town—“ Denny pulled out a pouch and tugged at one of the strings, showing off the insides. Money. He set the pouch down on the operation table, ignoring the blood. “—and know we always show our appreciation to good, honest, hard-working folk like yourself.”

  He didn’t know what to say to that. What did the money even matter? Jimmy could buy enough food and drinks. But what other luxuries were there even to spend it on? When you stripped away the cozy little atmosphere developing in New Nashville, it was a facade to the harsh reality outside. Going on his trip with Colt and the others reminded him that the people who never left these walls were cultivating a growing delusion. They were getting high on the promise of the city and life being normal.

  And the man right here peddled that drug.

  “I don’t want it,” Jimmy decided, with a look at the useless blood money.

  Denny clicked his tongue.

  “Alright. Fine. Suit yourself then, if’n you’re the sort not to want that kind thing, it’s respectable. Had something I wanted to have a little chat about.”

  Jimmy raised an eyebrow, and his headache pulsed; his eyes hurt and he just wanted to sleep. The last thing he wanted to hear was this guy droning on. Still, he gave a little gesture for the mayor to continue; if nothing else, it would get him to peace and quiet sooner.

  “Heard you went and left the walls with that group of friends of yours—dungeon divers. Not getting any ideas to plunder into a dungeon, right? Places like that are awful dangerous.”

  “I don’t know man, I’m just trying to get through the day.”

  “Aye, we all are. That’s what New Nashville is about: getting through the day. And you, sir, you’re a vital piece of that. Ain’t no more a respectable profession than people willing to patch up others. Y’know how many people we took in this last week from the ruins of the city?”

  Jimmy was at the end of his rope. “No, and I don’t really care.”

  “Sixty-five. And we have eyes on some more stranded groups out there—know how many people could heal in that group?”

  Jimmy kept quiet. Denny appeared to be content to answer his own questions, especially since he just flat-out ignored Jimmy’s previous response… And now there was an odd look in the guy’s eyes. An intensity that made Jimmy’s chest tighten. A darkness. It was a cloud in the sky, blotting out the sun and threatening to strike him with lightning.

  Denny adjusted his hat and spoke slowly, “Only one. More like half of one, since the skill ain’t quite as strong. Healers, good, quality healers, are looking to be harder to come across than we figured, which is a problem. Lotta stuff to get hurt by outta here. So I wanted to talk to you. New Nashville has to operate with the facts we got. Gotta take a look at reality and make realistic decisions. You wandering outside those walls ain’t just a danger to you—say something was to happen? Those hands of yours wouldn’t do work on all the good, fine people who need it.”

  Jimmy took a small step to the left to get closer to the door. Denny followed his step, blocking it.

  “Now, this town is built by the blood of fine people. I had hard-working men and women die recently. Every day, in fact. It’s a hell out there, and the people in here don’t know just how bad it can get. I do. That’s why we gotta make realistic decisions with the reality we got.” Denny fished out a piece of paper and unfurled it; he cleared his throat.

  “As signed into law on this fine day, the 20th of February; the New American Government of New Nashville has writ into law that all individuals of extraordinary capability and talent to provide exceptional healing services have now been assigned a resource value of invaluable; therefore we the government of New Nashville must take all precautions to protect them. By need of necessity of these times, we are forced to consider said individuals as a strategic and indispensable assets and treat them as such.”

  Panic welled in Jimmy’s chest as Denny continued in a droning, southern, matter-of-fact tone. He once more tried to step beyond the man but failed. Then, at the entrance, he saw it. Two more guards. One of them wore that oversized hat and cloak—the wind guy that he’d seen blow a hole into someone just days before. They were waiting for him.

  “By decree of executive order, to protect New Nashville, all individuals recognized as possessing such extraordinary talent will be temporarily restricted in their rights and conscripted. They will be housed in a government facility, protected at all times by guards, and escorted to and from their work to ensure their protection. And assigned directions and work orders directly from the office of acting Governor.”

  Denny gave him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  “’Course it doesn’t mention it here, but in these times of emergency action, you’ll have increased pay to compensate you for this great service you’ll be performing.”

  “I’m not going to heal anymore; I’m done; this is it, let me out.” Jimmy said, his voice catching in his throat as the two other men entered the room.

  Denny shook his head sadly.

  “Afraid that ain’t an option. Your services are mandatory. Didn’t read you the rest of the executive order; but I suppose once we get you back to your new home, I’ll pass you a copy to peruse at your leisure. I’m afraid your talents must be put to the good of the people. The will of one man ain’t nothing to the necessity of hundreds—thousands in the future. One day, you’ll look back on this and appreciate us giving you the push you need to do good, and we’ll commend you for your sacrifices to service. And you can retire in some mansion with all the fat cash you’ll be making.”

  Jimmy heard enough, trying to dart past and run out—only to be nabbed by Denny. The grip was tight, digging into his skin. He tried to yank his shoulder free. But that hand was an iron shackle, sealing him away.

  He knew his powers. Worse yet, he knew Denny’s. There was no escape from this—and if he resisted, they wouldn’t kill him. They’d punish him.

  Where was Colt—Sarah—Nate?

  What if they never came back.

  The grip on his arm was a sentance, and as those iron digits tightened, the freedom that this city promised was becoming nothing but a memory. Jimmy tried to scream, but no words came out—a wind ripping them from his voice, courtesy of the mage Denny brought along.

  There was nothing he could do; he didn’t have the power to resist. And he was alone, in the hands of this man.

  “Righto, let’s get going. Law waits for no man.”

  Denny ripped Jimmy down the hall, leading him into the hospital proper; the walls lined with flickering white and blue lights.

  Those lights, Jimmy thought, might be the last time he saw freedom.