"Spirit Touch?" Fritz repeated, smiling with wonder.

  It was an incredibly rare Ability, so much so that he'd never heard of anyone in Rain City with anything similar. It was definitely in the same vaunted territory as some of his own powers, such as Hand of Eldritch Flame, though it was not quite as unheard of as Dusksong.

  Clover nodded, smiled weakly, then toppled. She fell right over his lap, and he caught her gallantly.

  Fritz pulled on his sleeve and produced one of the stamina potions from his Slim Pocket. With a skilful swish and some sleight of hand, it appeared as if by magic. He swiftly fed her the bubbling contents of the vial.

  When she didn't awake, he grew worried. With a frown, he put a hand to her forehead and listened for her breath. Her skin was slick and clammy, and she shivered with each quick breath. The condition was one he was familiar with, as it was the very same as when she had been drained by a wraith.

  Had she siphoned her own spirit with her new Ability? Was it that she then gave her own spirit to him?

  That was the obvious conclusion, so he didn’t doubt his guess.

  "Is she alright?" Trudge asked blearily. He'd awoken quickly, as had the rest of the crew when the shouting and screaming had began, and was still half asleep.

  "She should be fine," Fritz said. "She just overdrew on her new Ability."

  "New Ability," Trudge repeated.

  "She killed the ghost," Toby casually observed.

  "And it left something behind." Mel pointed at the dark knot sitting on the black glass.

  Fritz stared, suppressing the keen desire to leap up onto his feet and steal away the object. It was about the size of a palm and exuded an air of dread. He knew it for what it was. A seed. And a deathly one at that.

  He wondered what kind of powers it contained and just how much it was worth. Thousands of gold triads, no doubt. Maybe enough to clear his debt to the crown in one fell swoop. His hope and excitement rose swiftly, but were doused as soon as he came to his senses.

  Like all of the Treasures and material they found, it would first pass by the Nightshark's eyes. The second trouble was the selling of the seed, or its refinement. People would wonder where he'd got such a precious thing, and they would harry him with questions he was unable to answer. And even if he could somehow sell in secret, paying his debt with a sudden, inexplicable windfall would also raise questions. From the King and his agents, no less.

  While he wouldn't call the seed a curse or anything but a boon, it was definitely bringing him a headache.

  "Is that a seed?" Toby asked, cautiously approaching the twisted thing. "Does that mean the necromancer was an Aberrant?"

  "Must have been," Fritz agreed.

  "A seed?" Reed asked. "Really?"

  "Really," Fritz said.

  "Is it safe to touch?" Toby asked.

  "Should be," Fritz stated.

  Toby hesitated. "Should be?"

  "Perhaps."

  Toby drew his hand back and straightened, leaving the seed where it lay.

  "Fine, I'll do it," Mel said, striding over and swiping the thing from the floor. She grimaced.

  "Are you well?" Fritz asked.

  "Fine. It's just cold...and weird," she said, holding the seed up for all to see.

  "See, it was perfectly harmless," Fritz said with a genial smile. "Now let's secure it safely," he added, gesturing to his pack.

  "Wait, let me have a look at it first," Reed said.

  "Me too," Trudge blurted.

  Mel shrugged, walked over and let them look at it. They stared at it, then poked it with their fingers.

  "That is cold," Reed stated. "Not like ice, though. A different cold."

  "Yeah, it's strange, like I said," Mel agreed. "Probably because it came from a ghost. Whoever heard of that?"

  "I haven't," Trudge provided unhelpfully.

  Eventually, the novelty of the seed wore away, and after peering at it for a few minutes more, Mel dropped it into Fritz's pack. He barely spared it a glance. He was more worried about the woman in his lap. While she didn't seem to be getting any worse, her condition also wasn't improving by any discernible measure.

  Fritz didn't show any concern on his face, though; he simply kept on a confident smile and a reassuring demeanour. He ordered that Clover's bedroll be unfurled, and then he, with Trudge's help, lifted her and placed her down on its thin cushioning. It wasn't particularly well-sewn or well-stuffed.

  Feeling some gratitude to the woman, Fritz decided she could rest easier on his own bedroll, he lay it out, then set her on it, again with a little help from Trudge. He then covered her with his blanket, making sure she was comfortable. She stirred for a moment, eyes fluttering and attempting to rise.

  Fritz stopped her with a hand upon her shoulder, and some whispered words laced with Dusksong. "Hush, sleep, rest a time. Quiet, calm, and dream sublime."

  "So gentle," Mel mocked. "I'm jealous. What does a girl have to do to get that sort of treatment?"

  "You could begin by saving my life," Fritz suggested.

  "I would, you know. Just haven't had the lucky chance," she replied.

  "I hardly think that would be lucky, seeing as I would be in some dire danger," Fritz said.

  "Unlucky then, you know how it is," Mel amended with a shrug.

  "Quite," Fritz allowed. "Though that's neither here nor there. I'll have a look at the Doors, and then we can discuss Abilities."

  "Must we?" Toby yawned. "We only got an hour or two of sleep. Can't it wait?"

  Fritz resolved that it could indeed wait. Now that the peril had passed and all the excitement was over, he still felt fairly tired.

  "Very well," he said benevolently. "Rest well."

  They returned to their bedrolls without argument.

  Fritz himself was faced with a conundrum. He'd given his own bed to Clover and now found that he couldn't bring himself to sleep in her lumpy mess of a movable mattress. It wasn't just that it looked uncomfortable, which it did, but that he felt it would be improper somehow. To sleep in another woman's bed, what would Sylvia think?

  He knew the thought was foolish, she wouldn't care a bit. Though that didn't dissuade him from simply lying on the glassy ground without the benefit of a bedroll.

  Fritz reckoned that he'd been too pampered of late anyway, and a little bit of rough sleeping wouldn't do much harm. It was a reminder of the times when he'd been truly powerless, and the fate of those who had nowhere to go this night.

  Fritz hoped that the Refuge, that Sylvia, could make a difference there. But he had his doubts. The grotesque brutality of the gutters was such a large foe. Akin to the enormity of a leviathan. And they were so small, so weak. Only someone as powerful as the King, or his entire court of nobles, could clean up those streets. It could even be easy.

  But they will not and do not. And they will not be made to see or act on the injustices below.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  It was up to him and Sylvia, and the Refuge, then. And anyone who would join their cause.

  There was some hope. Some hope that they'd grow strong enough. But mostly, there was fear. The Nightshark wouldn't let the prosperity of the Refuge eclipse her own dominion. Fritz knew that much.

  Alas.

  Though if he gave in, the fall, the failure would be an inevitability rather than just a probable outcome. If his time in the gutters and the Spires had taught him anything, it was that: you must fight to be given a choice or a chance.

  With that grim consideration grinding in his skull, he slowly fell asleep.

  ---

  When Fritz awoke, it was with a stiff back and under a thin blanket. He glanced around suspiciously, attempting to locate who had thrown it over him.

  Trudge smiled as their gazes met. "Didn't want you to catch a chill."

  "Thank you," Fritz said, sitting up, then stretching. Though he hadn't slept particularly well, his mind was mostly clear. With a yawn, he made his way to his pack and ate a ration bar, washing it down with a mouthful from Clover's spare waterskin.

  He regretted the loss of his ever-filling waterflask, the first magical item he'd bought. And what he now was sure he'd paid far too much for. He'd have to purchase a new one. And perhaps any other Treasure that could produce a barrel's worth of water. That way, it would be far easier to make use of his Circle of Potent Reflections.

  After slaking his thirst with another few gulps, Fritz checked on the woman he was borrowing from.

  Clover was still asleep, though she appeared healthier than she had been. With a touch, he found that her sweat had dried and her skin was warm.

  She woke from the contact, her eyes first bleary, then widening. Her face flushed, and she began to breathe rapidly.

  "Captain?" she gasped, reaching for him. Her grasp on his arm was feeble and fervent.

  Fritz pulled away smoothly while smiling kindly. "Clover. Are you well?"

  She blinked, then blinked once again before regaining some semblance of sense.

  "Captain!" She cried. "I'm sorry!"

  "Nonsense," Fritz said, waving her worries away. "I should be apologising to you, considering the state you were in after healing me. That Spirit Touch took a great toll on you."

  "It's nothin'," she protested.

  "It was a deadly risk," Fritz said seriously. "Thank you."

  Clover smiled. "Just paying you back."

  Absently, Fritz was aware that the ethereal thread between them dimmed. It was the silvery illumination of obligation that faded by a third, a part of her life-debt repaid. That surprised him, though on reflection it shouldn't have.

  A debt that could never be settled was a gaol.

  Fritz had no desire to keep prisoners, so he considered it a good thing. Though he also knew he'd have to be careful if he wanted to keep the more delicate strands of obligation safe. Just in case.

  "What are you lookin' at?" Clover asked, staring down at herself. "Is there a hole in my tunic?"

  "Oh, no, nothing of the sort," Fritz said, pulling his gaze away from the transparent strand. "I was simply lost in thought."

  "Alright," she replied. "Are you sure you're not still hurt from the ghost?"

  "Again, you're the one most harmed. That Spirit Touch, it's a rare, powerful Ability. Use it sparingly, lest you drain your own spirit dry," Fritz warned.

  Although it struck him as odd that he was the one advising caution, it felt the right thing to do.

  "If you say so," she said.

  "It's an order," he said softly, adding a wink.

  Her face flushed further, and she smiled nervously. The thread between them gleamed adoringly.

  "Now that I've seen to you, I have some Doors to see to, too," Fritz unwittingly rhymed.

  "Alright. I'll rest a little longer then. My legs still feel like jellyfish," she said, settling back down.

  "Very well."

  The pale woman closed her eyes and was soon asleep.

  Fritz made his way to the Doors under the expectant eyes of the crew.

  The first was made of rough wooden planks rimed with salt. The sea breeze blew strongly from the square frame, and the steps of the stairway creaked. The whole door subtly swayed, and the quiet roar of rain rumbled. Fritz's Senses only confirmed what he already suspected. A ship on a stormy sea, rocked by roiling waves and heading deeper into the tempest.

  The Floor beyond held a dangerous appeal. It was the thrill of crossing the ocean, braving the brutal weather and unforgiving waters and arriving somewhere new. Somewhere far away from Rain City.

  Fritz shook off that thought. He was in a Spire, and the Floor above just led to another Floor.

  Until he reached the top. There was no escape.

  The second Door was more promising than the first, a cave mouth with a ramp of fine sand. A warm wind flowed from it, carrying the scent of lush plant-life beyond. A brief touch of his Awareness brought him images of bright beaches and thick jungle. However, it was not the idyllic portrait of paradise it pretended to be. No, there were beasts aplenty in the green and worse in the sea. Or so he intuited.

  The third Door was a gleaming arc of silver polished to a mirror finish. The stairs reflected his face in split, distorted strips, a swarm of his own suspicious eyes staring right at him. If that confusing sight wasn't enough to discourage him from choosing the Door, what he felt from his Senses did. Great metal spiders skittered down the smooth, circular halls, their saw-like maws glittering and whirring.

  Fritz felt a shudder from just the impression and a faint sensation of familiarity that faded in the very moment he felt it. A curious matter, but one he didn't dwell on. There were too many such fleeting notions that ultimately amounted to nothing, being merely the products of his well-honed paranoia and overabundant imagination.

  Now that he had the general gist for what the last Floors had in store, he gathered the crew, save for Clover, who he allowed some more time to rest. He intended to gauge what kind of Abilities they'd been offered and if they would ease the traversal or trivialise the trials in each.

  "As you can see, we have three Doors to choose from," he began, then he described, vaguely, what he'd gleaned.

  "The first and the last Floors sound awful," Mel said. "Don't know why you think there's a better choice than the middle one."

  "True as the rain," Fritz agreed. "Though one of you might just choose an Ability that will make them more bearable."

  "I didn't get no choices like that," Mel said.

  "I didn't either," Reed admitted. "I did get offered Danger Sense, though."

  "Really?" Fritz asked, raising an eyebrow.

  "Yeah, thinking of picking it," he said with a shrug. "Could be useful outside."

  "Very useful," Fritz agreed. "And it's not bad in the Spire either. Though it is somewhat redundant as I have a similar Sense."

  "I thought you did, which is why I didn't choose it straight away," Reed said. "Don't need two of the same power, do we?"

  "Not necessarily. It could be of benefit," Fritz contradicted, rubbing at the scratchy stubble on his chin. "With you in the rear, you'll be well alerted if something attempts to pick you off."

  Reed grimaced at the thought, but nodded.

  "I was offered Passives," Trudge said. "Probably gonna take Thick Skin. Been cut up too much to ignore it, really."

  Fritz agreed with the man's assessment, but still asked, "What else were you offered?"

  "Deep Lungs and Strong Stride."

  "Hmm," Fritz hummed. "I can't see the use of Deep Lungs when waterbreathing is easy to come by. If I were you, I'd also err on the side of defensive Passives."

  Trudge nodded.

  "What about you, Toby?" Fritz asked.

  The man shook his head, then explained he'd already Evolved one of his Abilities the last floor.

  "Oh?"

  "Shadow Slink," Toby said. "It now has a minor shadow barrier while I'm dashing."

  "I see," Fritz said, reigning in a fleeting stab of envy.

  Now that he'd discovered what he'd meant to, he pondered which Door to choose for a few moments. He didn't really need to, but it was good to be thorough.

  "We'll take the middle Door then," Fritz announced. "There will be battles, that much I'm sure of, but it's a damn sight easier to fight beasts than a storm, if such a feat were possible. And the third Door feels all too unnatural for my liking."

  "And it looks cold," Mel said. "I'm sick of the cold. Another Floor like that and I'm sure my tits will freeze off."

  Trudge glanced at the woman's chest, then blushed and looked away when she smiled pointedly.

  "And I suppose that would be quite regrettable," Fritz said.

  "Yeah, regrettable. Just like losing an arm or a leg," Mel said, rolling her eyes.

  "A true tragedy then," Fritz replied.

  Mel smiled crookedly.

  "I suppose we're done strategising?" Toby asked, his tone one of boredom. "Considering the current talk."

  "Correct." Fritz nodded. "We'll wait until Clover gains some of her strength back. Align your Attributes and choose your Abilities in the meantime. Test them if it pleases you, though be careful."

  Dismissed, the crew wandered away, some sinking into Sanctums while others made to maintain their equipment.

  Fritz, finding he had little to do while Clover recovered, pulled out a hefty tome from his pack and scanned its still heftier title.

  'Theories on the preservation and perils of hierarchy, tyranny and unjust authority, and the measures and methods with which to dismantle and dissolve them. Assembled treatises and essays by Theodore Flynte and various other authors, anonymous, annotated and apparent.'

  He sighed, even the cover was inelegant and far too wordy. It didn't bode well for the rest of the book. Sighing, again, he opened it and attempted to read the first chapter of the thirty-three it promised, or rather threatened, to hold.

  As he had dreaded, the book was boring. It began with a 'brief' overview of history as the author envisioned it. Or so he claimed. It soon became apparent that Theodore Flynte was incapable of being brief. It spoke of Empires and Kingdoms that Fritz had never heard of, likely ancient and lost, then it outlined how they were structured, and who and how the rulers came to power.

  His eyes glazed over as he became lost in all the names, titles, dates, and the rising and falling Kingdoms. The only constant was the Spires, and the battles, betrayals and rebellions around them. So much conflict, so much chaos, so much death. Armies numbering thousands, even tens of thousands of Climbers, clashing, crushing, killing each other. All for their Kings, Queens, Emperors and Empresses.

  It was hard to imagine. Though Fritz had lived in the cruelty of the gutters, he'd never seen the wholesale slaughter the tome drily described. And although the author maintained an academic distance, there was some distaste woven within the words if one was looking hard enough.

  There was also another common thread: the kind of person who would seize the Authority of the Spires and would subsequently build their Kingdoms. Bloody-handed tyrants, passing down their power to their heirs, through what else but blood.

  While it wasn't all of them, it was a disturbing pattern.

  The contents of 'The Theories', as Fritz had begun to think of the treatise, painted a grim portrait of the past. And it did it in such passionless, passive prose. It could be considered a peerless work of art if art were meant to drown the fascinating in a tide of tedium.

  Eventually, he'd finished the first dreary chapter and was left with more questions than answers. One such question was: what relevance did it have to him? Though it described some events around the Spires of the mainland, it didn't have any advice about Climbing them, nor any knowledge that would aid in doing so.

  Any enlightenment or Technique, secreted within, was hidden deeply. If it existed at all.

  Clover stirred, and he set down the book, glad to be distracted.

  "Feeling better?" he asked.

  "A bit," she said.

  "Can you stand?"

  Clover stretched, yawned, then slowly rose to her feet. She wobbled and, grasping her arm, Fritz steadied her.

  Clover smiled gratefully. "I'm still pretty weak. I don't think I'll be able to walk far."

  Fritz frowned.

  "Sorry," she said.

  "Nevermind that," Fritz said. "I would like to Climb as quickly as possible. Can you bear to be carried?"

  Clover hesitated. "By you?"

  Fritz shook his head gently. "By Trudge and Reed, I'm afraid. Although I have the strength, I have not the stamina. That and I have to scout. I can't do that with you slung upon my shoulder, now can I?"

  She nodded, agreeing, though disappointed.

  Fritz considered handing his healing potion to her, potentially solving the problem, but thought better of it. He didn't know if such potions would revive a drained spirit, and he wouldn't want to waste it.

  After rolling up his bedroll and packing away his things, Fritz announced that they were to begin their Climb in half an hour.

  The time passed quickly, they sated their hunger and thirst and packed their bags, sacks and packs tightly, ensuring all was safe and secure.

  Then they were ready. Trudge attempted to hold Clover in his arms like one would a child, but she couldn't bear the indignity; she demanded to clutch to his back. This was denied, mostly by practicality. The man's large back simply had no further room for her to cling to. Not with both their packs in the way, as well as their sacks of gold.

  Bristling and shamefaced, she eventually agreed to be carried as she had been.

  It was not a great solution, but Fritz couldn't wait any longer. He'd already been delayed too long in this Spire, and he had an inexplicable feeling that he was needed on the outside.

  Fritz inspected the crew one last time, corrected a few of them, then nodded when he was satisfied.

  "This is the last Floor, we're almost there. Though take heed not to lower your guard, this will be just as deadly as any of the Floors before. I believe we'll get through. We will Climb to the top. Follow me."