Rworg falls from the wall, the broken-off handle clutched in his hands. He lands with an oof.

The jonungard start pulling the door in the other direction. They whoop and bark, excited or angry. The door opens even more readily than before. The hinges scream but turn, the gap widening every moment. Thin arms reach in, their nails ragged, torn, and bloody.

Faces press into the crack between the door and the wall, the darkness behind them churning into a mix of black and white as bodies press against each other.

Rworg wrenches himself up from the ground, reaching for the snapped handle sticking out of the door. He wraps his fingers around what little is left and pulls, but loses his grip. Blood drips from a cut in his hand. In the swirling light, it's bright red, almost pink.

I get up. Finna lays still, but not unnaturally so. Every second counts. I just hope this really is what we have been looking for. The knot of light pulses and throbs in the middle of the room, hanging in the air like the auroras did. It has to be mana. The auroras were massive, breathtaking. The knot is something else. Almost like a physical presence. It presses into me, like deep being underwater.

I grab my bow and grab an arrow. Rworg has grabbed hold of the door itself and is holding it from opening more. White arms scrape at his arms, leaving red scratches on his skin, highlighted by the bright light. He growls and pulls, actually moving the door back closed. The white things must be pretty weak, even if there are so many. They can't all get to pull at the door, and they keep scrambling over each other, one pulling another away to get a place to pull at the door themselves.

I nock the arrow and pull it back. Rworg looks at me. I look back, holding the string drawn. He nods and plants his feet firmly. Taking a breath in, he turns himself into a statue, holding his breath and the door. It stays still, the pull of all the jonungaard not being able to move it.

A face peeks in below Rworg's arms. Its eyes are bright red but also reflect the light like a cat's eyes would, glinting solid yellow. The eyes move to meet mine as I finish the pull. It raises a palm toward me.

I release the arrow. It passes below Rworg's arms and hits the raised palm. The arrow snaps and clangs and flies to the side. Rworg jerks his head to the side to avoid as it spins next to his ear, flying somewhere behind him. The jonungaard's hand is thrown back by the force of the arrow, and it yelps in surprise, turning its gaze to its hand.

Rworg looks surprised as well. He lets one hand go from the door and punches the face. The punch snaps back the face with a crack and throws the white creature back into the darkness. All the white creatures screech in unison.

Rworg grabs on to the door again. "The faces feel normal," he says, straining against the pull.

I nock another arrow. There's no time for this. Not for banter, not for struggling with a door. A new face pushes into view. I shoot. The arrow passes between Rworg's arms and hits the face squarely in the eye. A thunk and a snap and a screech, cut short. Rworg breathes out in surprise, eyes wide and focused on the small gap between his arms.

It's quiet. The jonungaard have stopped pulling on the door and milling behind it. There's a soft screech, a raspy sound of confusion.

"The door!" I hiss at Rworg, who's frowning and looking and looking at what's happening outside.

He twitches and pulls, closing the door as far as he can without crushing his fingers. On this side of the door there's a short stub of the handle, only a short, sharp end left. There's also a large latch: a thick metal bar pointing up.

Rworg grabs it, working his fingers under the bar and pulling. The door closes.

Outside, the jonungaard start a pained, sobbing wail. It rises in pitch, reaching a shrill register, a piercing whistle, a squeal.

It continues and mixes with the creaking of metal as Rworg pushes down the bar, forcing the latch down. The latch scrapes against stone, leaving another trail of red rust on the wall.

On the door, there's a red smeared handprint. Rworg clenches his hand into a fist. A blood trickles down to the ground. "They were devastated," he says slowly.

I nod. There's nothing to say. He's been cutting his own countrymen into red, ragged slices like they were sausage. The difference is, the Kertharians didn't flinch or stop to mourn. The keening is growing quieter. The things didn't seem strong. The door should hold them, even if they try to break it down. They have no tools, just their hands and feet. Even if their palms seemed to be strong like steel. The arrow bouncing off was truly bizarre. The skin on the palm would need to be stronger than steel, now that I think about it. I've shot through armor in Kerthar, so at this distance, the arrow should have punched through nearly anything. How can they bend their fingers?

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Light flows across Rworg's face, painting it red and purple and blue and white. I snap out of my thoughts. "Let's get her in there!" I shout, grabbing hold of Finna's legs.

Rworg crouches and slides an arm under her back and grabs on to the legs, lifting her like a baby. "Let me," he says, lifting her up.

I hold on to her boot for a moment, but he doesn't need me. Letting go, I follow as Rworg steps toward the center of the room.

The threads of light twist and tangle, blending together. They enter the room for multiple openings in the wall, joining into a swirling ball of light, as large as a boar.

Finna's arm drops to dangle toward the floor, limp. Rworg hops her, adjusting her position in his arm. "What do I do?"

Now he's thinking about what to do before doing it? "Just... chuck her in, I guess?" I say.

"Hmm," Rworg says, shrugging. He steps forward and offers Finna up to the light. I expected him to hesitate even a bit, but of course, he doesn't.

Rworg makes a surprised sound as Finna rises, pulled up from his arms toward the center of the light. It envelops her completely, her form a faint silhouette inside the swirling mana.

I really hope this was what we were supposed to do. The smell of ozone intensifies. It's been hanging in the air the whole time we've been here, but now it flows over us in waves. The light pulses like a heart beats. We are both holding an arm over our faces to try to fend off even some of the smell. My face tingles and aches, muscles jerking, making the corners of my eyes and mouth to twitch.

Finna jerks. Her legs kick and her arms shoot forward. She swims, maybe drowns, flailing and hanging in the air, inside the light.

"It worked!" I shout.

Rworg's brow is furrowed. "Too well," he says.

Finna's movements become frantic, she kicks like she's spasming, straightening, and bending backward, legs twitching.

Rworg lunges forward, plunges his arm into the light.

I'm not even disappointed. This time I'm just relieved. He grabs hold of Finna's leg and pulls, too hard, it turns out. Finna shoots out from the light, crashing into Rworg. He falls back, landing on the floor, Finna landing on his chest. "Oof," he says, from somewhere below her.

"What!" Finna shouts. She twists and jumps, pushing off from Rworg's ribs with her heel. Rworg bends up like a switchblade, cheeks and eyes bulging out.

Finna lands gracefully, spinning around, eyes scanning the room. "What have you creeps...?" she says, but crumples in the middle of her sentence, grasping her head with both hands.

I hurry to her side, crouching and grabbing her into a hug. "Shh, shh," I say. I have no idea what I should have said, but I pat her hair. "It's ok. You're ok."

She flails her arms and bonks me on the head with her fist, while at the same time folding her leg between us. She presses her heel on my chest and kicks, sending me stumbling back and herself sliding in the other direction.

Rworg reaches down to pick me up from the ground as I wheeze. "She really is ok," he says, nodding at Finna. "Glad you're back."

She pants, pressing one eye closed, wincing at the light or the headache she seems to be having. She leans the side of her head into her hand, pressing down on her temple. "Thanks?" she says.

"Nice. I got healed as well," Rworg says, turning his hand around and showing it to me.

It really is healed, but I push it away from my face. "This is how you react to bringing someone back from the dead?" I shout, waving my hand at him to Finna.

"What do you mean, dead?" Finna says. "I thought I had been drinking. What with waking up in a weird place with a headache."

"You do not remember?" Rworg asks, rubbing his beard. "Perhaps it makes sense."

The jonungaard are quiet. Only the mana hums as it runs through the room. Throwing Finna in doesn't seem to have affected it in any way. It keeps pulsing and swirling, flowing in and out, as it has for the whole time we've been here.

Finna rubs her head. "This place is squeezing my brain, can we go somewhere?"

I snap my fingers. "Lictor said she might have a headache from the mana. It has to be really thick here. Yeah, we better leave."

"Lictor!" Finna shouts, then winces and presses her eyes closed. "Ooh, that smarts," she says.

"We should not go back the way we came," Rworg says. "I want to avoid the whitelings. We have no real quarrel with them."

That's a much better word for the things than jonungaard. I agree with the sentiment. The whitelings had seemed shattered after I shot that one. There was something similar to a panicked baby screaming for help or comfort in the sound. Raw and uninhibited. Not animal, but not human either. I shiver as I remember the sound.

Finna ducks under a strand of light and walks to the other side of the room. "There's an opening here."

Rworg ducks as well, even if he doesn't go low enough to completely avoid the light. His ponytail floats up into the light, hairs wiggling like seaweed in water.

I follow them to find a dark entrance further into the Monolith. This one has no door, but the corridor behind it runs in the same direction as the thickest band of mana. "If we follow the mana, maybe we find the control room?"

"I have absolutely no idea what you are on about, but I'm getting out of here now," Finna says.

She starts walking, and I catch up to her. "What do you remember? Before you woke up here?" I ask. The light from the room blasts our shadows far into the distance, stretching to touch the darkness ahead.

"Ma--" she starts. Her eyes go wide, and she draws a breath, letting it out haltingly. "Mandollel went crazy. Like the Kertharians. We had to fight him." She turns her head, moving her gaze from me to Rworg. "Where is he? Did we... win?"

"No. Yes. I mean, don't worry. He's fine. Frozen, like the Kertharians. We will save him." I watch her shoulder lower as I speak and raise a hand to pat her back. There's a small cut in her shirt, just below her shoulder, where the cloth is stiff with dried blood. My gaze is drawn into it, and I almost bump into her when she suddenly stops.

"What happened to the light?" Finna asks.

Our shadows no longer cut into the corridor. They reach softly ahead of us in the gloom of the Monolith. The dim glow of the walls is visible again.

A low roar starts thrumming from behind me, rumbling and gaining strength.

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