Reed awoke, he had a bad feeling he just couldn't shake off. An itch in the middle of his back. He rolled to one side and scratched. The feeling didn't fade. It was in his mind. Something to do with Awareness. Now that he'd been taught how to properly sense the Advanced Attribute, he couldn't help but notice its fleeting warnings more strongly, coming and going like waves.

  It was annoying, but there was nothing that could be done about it. And it was definitely better to be annoyed than dead.

  Faintly, Reed heard the scuff of feet on the rough stone. He opened his eyes to a slit to see a figure skulking over to Nail's nook. Although the light from the lanterns was dim, he recognised Bucket easily. It was the skittish way he moved that gave him away.

  The thief cautiously shook the thug awake.

  Nail grumbled, then glared, reaching for the hilt of a hidden knife.

  Bucket began to sign sharply.

  Reed had to shift his neck to see what was said, the soft sound almost drew their gazes, and would have if not for a sudden snort of a snore from where Mel slept. The two stared warily at the woman for a few moments before resuming their secretive signing.

  "He's hiding Treasure from us," Bucket claimed.

  "Yes. And?" Nail responded, frowning.

  "If we want to get out with some gold, we take it."

  "Another stupid scheme?"

  "It's not stupid, I'm just looking out for us. We can't leave the Spire with nothing but levels to show for it. What would Nic do to us?"

  Nail's frown grew deeper, and doubt crept onto his face. "What do you want to do about it?"

  "Sixth floor. By the Stairway, thump him, steal his pack and the staff and get out."

  Reed scoffed inwardly. The plan was beyond idiotic. The Shade was slippery as an eel, and if only half of what was said about the last battle of the Refuge were true, they would need far more than two traitors to corner him. And now that Reed had Climbed with the man, he believed the rumours were mostly real retellings, if a little exaggerated, as such things were.

  You would need to have a death wish to challenge the Shade. Even if they had the whole crew on their side, it could prove deadly to fight him.

  And that didn't count Toby or any of the others that he had brought to his side, like Trudge, Clover, and Mel.

  Reed himself realised he'd have the Shade's back too. He never even questioned whose side he'd be on.

  He thought it odd. He'd always been one to weigh all sides and do what benefited him most. That was the way. Down in the gutters, loyalty was for fools. Yet, here he was, immediate in his allegiance. He wondered why that was. Sure, the Shade had a presence, beyond even his good looks and cold eyes, but that wasn't what drew him in. It was his... decency. A merciful streak that was a mark of naivety. It was sure to lead to his downfall.

  Reed could sneer at that softness openly and could offer only scorn at the idea of forgiveness. But deep down, really deep, he held a grudging respect for taking that hard path. It was easy to simply kill your foes. While it wouldn't earn you any friends, it would cut any scheming off at its source and would have others think twice about opposing you.

  To grant a second chance... it was the height of idiocy, it was a madness. Yet...

  Nail finally made a decision, shaking his head vehemently, seemingly being of a similar mind to Reed.

  Bucket scowled, then signed more forcefully. "Idiot!"

  He continued in a whisper, one that was hard to hear over the snores, but Reed could just make out what was said.

  "We're in this together. You really think he's forgiven you? Don't be stupid. He's just biding his time, he'll get his revenge, or he'll get his 'mate' Sid to do us in."

  "Maybe," Nail agreed. "But I'm not crossin' him, not again. I swore, and you swore as well. You gonna go back on that?"

  "I swear a lot of things," Bucket dismissed. "Come on, you know it's only a matter of when. He'll get rid of us, true as the rain. We gotta fight back, take what we can. The Cutter said if I can get him something good and harm or kill the Shade, he'll let me into his gang. We can join together. With him as our boss, we won't have to worry, we won't be touched."

  Nail shook his head again and sighed. "No. It's not just the outside. You didn't see what he did to the knight."

  "He struck it with a crossbow, so what?" Bucket said. "Pure luck."

  "Both times?" Nail scowled. "But no, I'm talkin' about the big, golden one. He burned it with some evil fire. Its armour was turned to slag, the same with its sword. We had to pry what was left from the floor. The Shade did that by himself. Alone. Nothing you can say will make me forget that."

  "Coward," Bucket hissed.

  "Idiot," Nail replied.

  Bucket kicked the thugs foot, then turned and left, returning to his own alcove. He then scanned the room, his gaze lingering on Barge as if he were considering trying to convince him, too. He must have thought better of it because he lay down and grumbled himself to sleep.

  Reed was glad the man had given up for now, but he'd keep an eye on him all the same. There was no predicting what the desperately greedy fool would do when push came to shove. And if he was able to save the Shade from a backstabbing, well, Reed would earn some goodwill. There might even be a place in his gang for him.

  ---

  Fritz awoke to a deadly chill that sent a shiver down his spine and a sight that sent fear spinning in his centre. The necromancer stared down, its head half inside the stone, its insane eyes glaring with an inferno of effort and fury.

  One long, ghostly grey finger was descending slowly towards Fritz's forehead.

  He seized control of himself, stifling a shiver and the instinct to scramble away. Instead of thrashing, he watched more closely, noticing the slight tremor and the crawling speed of the hand. At that snail's pace, it would have taken at least another hour for the necromancer to touch him.

  He reached out for the staff at his side and, grasping it, ordered, "Stop. You're not to harm my crew or I."

  Its hand was wrenched back as if the limb were on strings, and the spirit seethed silently. It shook, and the half of the brand that could be seen through the stone shone bright, searing. After three long moments, the ghost stopped fighting the glyph. The blood red glow dimmed, and the spectral figure lost some of its white-grey lustre.

  As much as Fritz wanted to study the changes, this was not the place for it, not when the others were likely to wake and see his 'pet'. He still wanted to keep it a secret for as long as he could.

  "Hide."

  The necromancer had no choice but to obey. It floated back into the stone. Fritz idly wondered how far the ghost could travel, could it move far past the Well room's walls and into another Floor? Or was it, like he'd been taught, only possible to move from Floor to Floor through the Doors?

  It could be tested, but again, that would have to come later, when he was alone again. There were many questions he wanted answers to, questions he had about the nature of both the Spire and spirit. His attempts to investigate these mysteries had been cut short, of course, by his own incautious curiosity.

  Fritz cursed his prior foolishness. Just how many times did he need to be harmed while meddling with such hidden, deadly magics to learn his lesson? These perils, beyond the scope of any normal Climber, were best left alone. He wondered how other Scouts dealt with the temptation to wield Awareness on the weird, as he did.

  Perhaps that's why true Scouts were rare, the Guides Guild poaching and protections notwithstanding. Maybe it was that they also touched upon terrible secrets and powers they weren't prepared for, and simply weren't as lucky as himself, dying in payment for the forbidden knowledge.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Fritz quickly put those thoughts away; they were unfounded theories and it was time to rise.

  He stretched in place, letting out a groan, then he crawled from his nook and stood. His head didn't spin, and any lingering dizziness from his exertions had faded. Thankfully, the Well and the sleep had done much to restore him. He swept his eyes over the chamber, listened intently, then felt for his Awareness.

  Each Sense was clean and clear, with only the slightest of aches at the edge of his mind and slight pressure in his centre. Fritz sighed. It was a great relief that he wasn't harmed permanently from his, now obviously idiotic, action.

  Fritz smiled.

  "What are you smiling for?" Toby groused.

  "Oh, nothing much," Fritz said. "Just glad to have a full crew. Hale and ready to face the next Floors. The same could not have been said for my last Climb in this sinister Spire."

  Truthfully, he was just glad that he himself had come out unscathed, despite his poor display of caution, but it wouldn't be proper to boast as such.

  "Mhm," Toby said, glancing over the crew and seemingly agreeing. "A damn sight better than last time."

  "Shade?" Reed said, approaching Fritz furtively.

  "Yes, Reed?"

  "Got somethin' to tell you," he said. When he was met with an expectant stare, he continued, "Somewhere quiet-like."

  "Alright, if you'll excuse us, Mr. Blades," Fritz said, leading Reed away.

  Reed whispered what he claimed he had overheard the night before, a scheme from Bucket that was refused by Nail.

  "You did well to bring this to me," Fritz said. Although he had suspected that treachery was still afoot, it was always good to have prior warning and a more accurate idea of what the traitors planned.

  "Seemed only right, Shade," Reed stated.

  "You can call me Fritz, Reed," Fritz said, smiling generously.

  "Alright, Fritz."

  "Go eat."

  "Alright." Reed left.

  Fritz put the matter out of his mind for now. He could deal with the mutinous cretin on the next Floor. Presently, he had some Doors to inspect. He chewed on a ration bar as he strode to the three choices before him.

  The first was a plane of greenish water, encircled by a ring of green marble. The gleaming surface rippled gently. Obviously, it was an underwater floor, and to be avoided, but he applied his Door Sense diligently. Impressions, those of glittering metallic fish, similar in size and form to the Quicksilver Swordfish, darted above algae-smothered stones.

  While Fritz was intrigued by the thought of a rematch against the beastly fish or the possibility of scavenging a twin of his own blade. He dismissed the idea outright. There was definitely more than one foe, and he doubted if he would ever be the equal of the speedy monsters under the water.

  Satisfied with his reasoning, he turned to the middle Door. This one was an arch flanked by engraved columns. The circular patterns meant little to him, but they did have a certain elegance and an air of mystery. Door Sense delved, and soon he knew all there was to learn from his power.

  The Door led to a puzzle floor, one with few traps and dangers. However, from the pressure he felt while searching it, he assumed it was also a Floor with a time limit. Perhaps a collapsing ruin, or crumbling palace.

  The last of the Doors was also filled with few things to fear. A barren forest of standing stones. The entrance itself looked like a cave's mouth, and air, cold with a metallic taint, whistled from between teeth like stalactites. It seemed to be a survival Floor, one that could take a couple of days to traverse as it stretched for miles and miles. All without the ability to hunt or scavenge for food, if his impression of lifelessness was correct.

  He paced between the Doors. His choice was between the middle and the right, a sprint or a long run. It wasn't too difficult to decide in the end. The puzzle Floor, while smaller and more likely to contain a Treasure Chest, was sure to be more taxing on his Awareness, which while mostly fine hadn't wholly recovered yet.

  It was with some resignation that he chose the right Door. It would mean a longer stay in the Spire, and more time away from Bert, Sylvia, his family and his team, but safety was also paramount.

  He couldn't rush into the puzzle Floor, what if his overexerted Attribute failed him? That, and he still wanted to glean as much as he could from his enslaved spectre.

  "We're taking the right Door," Fritz announced to the room at large.

  They began to pack, and within fifteen minutes, they were ready to leave.

  Fritz led them, striding into the Door.

  It wasn't long until they were standing on a cold, stony landscape. They were in a great cavern, lit by an odd light from bright, blue crystals set atop the tall spikes of grey that split the floor. Pools of still water lay below those twenty-one foot high pillars, moats, rivers and ponds, reflecting the cool light. That natural illusion made it appear as if brilliant orbs lay within those shallow depths.

  Fritz grimaced at the sight. He hadn't expected the Floor to be this wet and didn't know where they would be able to camp when they eventually needed to rest. He set down his pack on a bridge of bare stone, then handed the Treasure staff to Clover, saying, "Here, hold this. I need my hands free to climb one of these pillars."

  She nodded, taking the staff with a small shiver.

  Fritz made his way to the tallest standing stone that was nearby, then began to crawl up it. He had reached its tip and stared over the floor before him. The cavern was vast, so much so that he couldn't see the roof or walls, only blackness, despite his enhanced eyes and Night Vision.

  To his relief, there were islands amongst the pools, both large and small, though, he also noticed the glitter of metal and the ripple of water.

  There was a dripping. Drops the size of an eyeball occasionally falling from the darkness above, splashing against the stone or striking the still pools with echoing plunks.

  Fritz pulsed his Awareness. His sense of the stairway was faint, but the direction was clear.

  He had just decided the route he would take, the one that would have the least wading, when a shriek erupted from below. The sound echoed off the standing stones, becoming a cacophony born from one voice. That was until more shouts joined the clamour.

  Fritz slipped down the spike and turned to see what had his crew so terrified.

  The necromancer's ghost floated amongst them. He should have known the evil creature would appear. In his haste to survey the Floor, he'd forgotten to order it to stay hidden. It was wilful and would seek any loophole and abuse any slip up. Just like a fairy.

  The crew struck at it with steel and spells, but they all passed through harmlessly.

  Fritz called out for them to stop, but they couldn't hear him over their own shouts. Annoyed, he prepared to wield his Dusksong when suddenly the ghost moved. It glided away, breaking through the crew's encirclement.

  Fritz wondered why it had acted, but the reason soon became apparent.

  In Clover's screams, there were words, "Get away! Go Away! Go Away! Go Away!"

  It obeyed her just as readily as it had obeyed him, if more eagerly as the command suited its desires.

  "Stop! Don't pursue!" Fritz commanded. This time, his call was edged with cruelty and cold, and the crew heeded him. Though that last order wasn't truly needed. It didn't look like they were keen to chase the spectre into the dark.

  They stood around staring warily at the shadows cast by the tall stones.

  Cursing silently, Fritz waded over to them. They heard his sloshing steps before they saw him. Tensely, each readied their weapons.

  "That you, Captain?" Toby called.

  "Yes, who else would it be?" Fritz asked.

  "Could be any manner of beast," Toby said. "Did you see the ghost or just come running when you heard us screaming?"

  "I did see a ghostly figure," Fritz said, feigning ignorance. "And I saw it escape. A pretty poor showing if you ask me."

  "Nothin' we could've done, couldn't touch it," Reed argued.

  "You must have done something, seeing as it fled," Fritz countered.

  "Well, I don't know why that is," Reed said.

  "Does anyone have any idea?" Fritz asked.

  "The staff?" Clover suggested, looking warily at the gnarled length of wood in the hands. "But I didn't Activate it."

  "It's empty, it wouldn't have worked," Fritz said. "But we should remedy that, in case it comes back."

  "Another ghost floor," Nail grumbled. "How did you miss that?"

  Fritz shrugged. "I can't tell everything about a Floor just from looking at its Door."

  "He didn't miss it," Bucket accused. "That ghost had a red mark on it, just as the wraiths did. I bet it's haunting us... or maybe our Captain has had a pet ghost this whole time and hasn't told us."

  Fritz turned a glare on the sneak thief that he smoothed over quickly.

  "That's it, isn't it?" Bucket seethed.

  Seeing the suspicious looks aimed his way, Fritz sighed. His ruse was well and truly uncovered. Now, he had no choice but to come clean. "You caught me. I have the necromancer's ghost in my thrall. Or rather, the staff's thrall. Clover, call the spectre back if you would."

  "What?" she nearly squeaked.

  "Just order the ghost to come back and it will," Fritz espoused. "It's bound to the staff, and you're holding it."

  "I'd rather not," she said.

  "Then hand it here," Fritz requested, wading closer to her and reaching out to take the staff. His boot slid on the slippery stone, and he lost balance for a second. He wobbled and only just avoided falling.

  Bucket, seeing some chance, acted on this misstep, leaping for the woman. Quick as a squid, he seized upon the Treasure and tried to pry it from her hands.

  She fought him, but he threw her from her feet and into a pool. Water splashed high, a shadow fell over Bucket's form, obscuring him from Reed's view as the man swept forward. Bucket swiftly retreated, unseen and cried out, "Ghost! Defend-"

  His words were cut off as Quicksilver opened his throat. Fritz wasn't deceived by the thief's stealth Ability, and he had moved smoothly. His Subtle Step barely causing a ripple in the pond.

  The black blade had struck out in less than a second and ended the treachery in nary an instant.

  Bucket dropped the staff and clutched his torn flesh. Blood gushed out between fingers, then he swayed, then toppled face-first into the water.

  He floated there, weakly slapping the surface once before he went still.

  A low, furious moan came from behind, as did the prediction of icy fingers plunging into Fritz back. Diving for, then grasping the staff, he commanded, "Halt! Back away!"

  The necromancer moaned again, this time in despair. Fritz stood, then turned to see it clawing at its ethereal flesh.

  "I said, halt!" Fritz repeated.

  The glyph burned bright, its scarlet hue scattering off the water's disturbed surface.

  The water wasn't the only thing disturbed. The faces of those around him were cast grimly. How could they not be? Bucket was dead. Murdered in a moment.

  Fritz stared at the man's corpse. He wondered why the thief had risked such a desperate gambit.

  Clover picked herself up. She was drenched completely, and her clothes and leathers hung from her thin frame. She glared around wildly.

  "Where's that bastard? I'll kill him!" Clover yelled.

  "Too late," Toby said soberly.

  Clover noticed the floating figure, paled, then scowled and spat on the body.

  "Got what you deserved, prick," she said scathingly.

  No one else had much to say about the death, though Mel spat on him too, mumbling about the killing being too quick and clean, adding, "Better than he deserved, really."

  Clover nodded at that.

  Fritz held back a sigh. He'd acted on instinct, perhaps rashly. His blade had sprung swifter than his sense. He didn't mourn the bastard, though he did lament the waste and what trouble the man's demise would bring.

  It was the second death under Fritz's command. First was Greg, now Bucket joined that short list. That list would grow, he knew, over his Climbs, but he dreaded that keenly.

  "What do we do?" Reed asked. "Just leave him there?"

  "Strip him, take his stuff," Nail suggested. "No sense letting it all rot down here. Isn't that right, Captain?"

  Fritz nodded his agreement, and soon, they were rifling through his clothes and pack for anything of use or value.

  It was a macabre business, but not one Fritz could say he was truly above. Still, he let the crew handle it for him. He didn't want to search a corpse of his own making. Not while it still stared blindly.

  From somewhere impossibly overhead, an intangible, yet insistent ire fell over him. Not only he felt the poisonous presence. He could see shivers and sour moods settle over the others. Though the reactions could have been from their honourless looting, Fritz knew better.

  It was the Spite. Now they were eight and they would be punished.

  Fritz turned away until they were done taking all the corpse had to offer, then he led his crew away.

  They left Bucket's pale body floating in the dark.

  Never to be seen again.