“If it weren't for the Knights on our tail, our best bet might be to split into two groups and fire long-range attacks from both available corridors into the atrium,” Merijest said. “It would be monotonous but potentially effective. Still, I’m not exactly a master tactician…”

  Witmie laid on her stomach, scribbling in her notebook as everyone deliberated over lunch.

  “Maybe we need a hostage?” Durn asked between bites of rations. “Any chance we could take Peter as a hostage?”

  “That might work, but what if Beautuk is just as willing to sacrifice Peter as he was willing to sacrifice Thesa?” Witmie countered, rolling onto her back in search of a more comfortable position. “Sorry, Thesa.”

  The Bronze Motif jingled over toward Witmie but before it could unintentionally frighten her, Durn waved it away.

  “No, you're right,” Thesa shrugged, frowning. “Besides, his Level is already so high, it's almost out of the question.”

  Thesa was resting in Merijest’s lap while the demoness used her claws to preen her feathers.

  “What I know for certain is that I will need to take on my Wyrmic form,” Merijest said. The grotesque, draconic form was powerful even if she’d rather nobody see it.

  Thesa looked up at her [Stake]. She wasn’t much for understanding facial expressions or body language, but she was starting to get a feel for when Merijest was nervous.

  “I'm sorry you'll have to see me like that again,” Merijest sighed. Thesa’s empathetic glance had been mistaken for discomfort. “Maintaining this form,” Merijest explained, gesturing to her body, “is a small but constant [Mana] drain.”

  Thesa couldn't form the words to explain that the only upsetting thing about Merijest's Wyrmic form was the distress it caused the demoness to embody it. Everytime she almost said something, she worried it would give the wrong impression. ‘You always looked good.’ ‘You pull off everything.’ ‘Look at how sexy cool you look with all your hair shorn off! You could literally pull off anything.’

  Before she could come up with a response, the conversation had moved on and Thesa couldn’t figure out how to get back to the topic without reopening Merijest’s internal wound.

  “I only have a few AOE options,” Durn said, flexing her fingers as if about to cast. “Does anyone else have abilities for effecting a large area?”

  “Nothing damage dealing,” Thesa replied. “I've got [Blindfold], but that's it.”

  Yabba breathed out a swarm of flies.

  “I suppose that counts,” Thesa said, nodding at her [Minor Familiar]. “The Foxtapus also has some abilities that might help. But I don’t know about the Bronze Motif’s abilities.” She looked quizzically at Merijest.

  “Our Bronze Motif is on the younger side, so it only has minor abilities.” Merijest explained. “However, I do have a few AOE spells,” she continued. “Whether I have enough to deal with a full [Raid] is another question.”

  “Even if Beautuk doesn't care about Peter, taking him as a hostage could still be a useful move,” Witmie said. “On the other hand, if I’m right about the secret doors, we could use those. There might even be a chamber there. Maybe we should spread our attacks over those three corridors into the atrium.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “How far are you from your next Level?” Durn asked Witmie. “I’m about halfway to mine.”

  “I'm very close to it,” Witmie said. “Although, [Fighter] abilities are mostly close range, so I don’t know how helpful they’ll be against a [Raid].”

  “Well, let’s try to get you that Level anyways, Witmie. Never know when it will come in handy,” Durn said.

  “Plus, Merijest’s power scales with her [Familiars] so that’s always worth the effort,” Thesa explained.

  ***

  On the next few [Floors], the party tried to defer to Witmie for traps and when they ran into a gaggle of Beanbag Constructs, the half-elf [Fighter] went to town, punching and kicking each one while Durn looked on lovingly.

  When Witmie reached Level 8, she announced with some excitement that she could take a useful [Knack].

  “[Tornado Strike] will let me spin around punching and kicking enemies in all directions. It’s not exactly AOE but it's also not not AOE.” It was a minor boon overall, but they needed anything they could get.

  ***

  ***

  On the 11th [Floor], the party nearly wiped out, falling over for their first rest in hours. Thesa and Durn sat up while Witmie and Merijest took shifts sleeping.

  “I’m starting to wonder,” Thesa said. “If we’re going to face Peter and Kelreyn eventually, should we just wait them out? Wouldn’t that be better than getting sandwiched?”

  “It’s not the worst idea,” Durn countered, “but I think you were right earlier about how powerful Peter and Kelreyn are. Probably we should try to get through the [Raid] before they even catch up.”

  Thesa agreed, although the plan had already been iterated upon so many times that she figured it would change again soon. After everyone had gotten the chance to sleep, the party took off moving again.

  ***

  They stopped for the last time on [Floor] 2.

  “This is it,” Merijest said, trying to think of something more inspiring to rally her [Familiars]. They were counting on her, but she couldn’t find the words.

  She was shaking from wing to tail. Her arms and legs pulled in on herself. The demoness’s anxiety was obvious. Every vestige of her confident persona was trembling.

  “If this fails,” Merijest continued, “I want to apologize…”

  Before she could say more, Thesa interrupted. Some part of her leapt up protectively to stop Merijest from putting herself down. “No. Don’t apologize. You…you’re the only reason we made it this far. And maybe we wouldn’t be fighting this fight without you, but that’s not a reason to apologize. That’s a reason for us to thank you. You and me, we’ve both spent a lot of time alone, but we’re together now and we’re going to get through this.”

  Thesa was surprised at how to-the-point her own words were. She looked around at her comrades. Merijest was smiling, though some tears had broken loose on her jittery cheeks. Witmie and Durn were mouthing something (‘kiss her! kiss her!’). The Foxtapus yipped in agreement, and Yabba…delivered another dead bird, nudging it toward Thesa as…a gift?

  Merijest wiped a tear away, and laughed. “Thank you, kitten.” She was still curled up in a floating, anxious ball. Thesa took the demoness’s hand and coaxed her out of the defensive pose, pulling Merijest in close for an embrace.

  Merijest’s whole body relaxed before she tried to re-assume her confident affect. “I picked the right [Paladin], didn’t I?”

  Thesa blushed, realizing her momentary bravado and shrinking a bit as the demoness shifted her weight. She was almost being dipped. Their faces were so close. Merijest’s white pupils gleamed. Her mouth curled into a lip-biting smile. Her expression was so close to sinister, but truthfully she was in awe of her [Witch].

  Just as Thesa was about to lean forward, Peter’s voice echoed from behind them. “This fight should push me over to Level 20,” he laughed.

  The party took off again, one staircase away from the final confrontation.

  ***

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