"I never did thank you, did I? For agreeing."

  I grunt, eyes still trained on the portal. One hand is curled through

  it, my skin melding to scales as the fingers dip around the

  impossible fringe of the World, and the other is trying to find where

  the tear ends and the World begins again. I'm not sticking my head

  into this thing, seeing what lies beyond that eye-bending golden

  shimmer, until I know how stable it is. Standard procedure. I even

  have to get re-trained on it every two years, actually.

  "Say that again?"

  "Thank you for coming back, Am- . Yes, Ivy."

  Winston says, eventually. He's crept up on the portal now, hands

  flickering with the rhythmic motions of Water. "The Restorers

  might be a touch upset at your return, but Craumont certainly missed

  one of its best fighters. I'm sure you're even better, now."

  "I doubt I could bend forged iron before, yeah," I chuckle,

  grinning as my fingers find purchase on something. "I can take a

  bigger bruising, too, and I just heal it off with a bit of magic."

  "You must have Delved quite far, then?"

  That I felt earlier turned into proper resistance—

  like finding where a frayed rope was still bound together. And, just

  beyond that, the point where the World fused again, pushing back

  against the Delve.

  Right. Delve depth.

  "About two grand marches, I think," I say slowly, as if I

  didn't know my exact Delve record. One thousand nine hundred and

  ninety eight point seven marches on the depth meter, but I counted it

  as two grand on account of being tall. My feet were deep enough,

  surely. Or my tail, if the depth was askew from gravity at the time.

  I’d even notched it on my meter, though I hadn’t brought that

  along for this. But I’m not planning on Delving just yet— I can

  manage it and most weaker monsters with just my fists, thus not

  bringing extra tools for the stabilization— I'll spend some time

  preparing my equipment and go in later today. Maybe tomorrow, even.

  The protections should last far longer than that.

  "That's impressive, is it not? Twice the required depth to

  become a registered Delver," Winston queries, "The contract

  mage we had before was quite proud of his five hundred marches. Good

  enough to find the Heart, he said."

  With one hand on the fringe of the World, I bring my other hand to a

  thin, shimmering tear, letting the World flow from one end to the

  other. A few pinches and a touch of my own mana is enough to fix

  that— one less point for the tearing to resume.

  "For a non-Delver, five hundred isn't bad," I admit, a

  little impressed. "Not getting any particularly pure magic

  crystals at that depth, though. He was just on to seal Delves, right?

  Not harvest them."

  "Sealing and patch work on the one we keep open, mostly. As you

  may recall, Craumont doesn't have many Mages—"

  The portal ripples, golden fog parting and warping. The depth of the

  world around us plunges, magic building and compressing. I can see

  the guards staggering in my peripheral vision, and Winston takes a

  moment to steady himself.

  I push back with my magic, snarling as the seams strain against my

  touch. A few marches of depth is nothing to me, be it underwater or

  in a Delve. I vent my irritation on the floor, jabbing my tail into

  the cracks repeatedly.

  “Something’s trying to push through.” I say quickly, rolling my

  shoulders. “Guard O— Guards. Spears up. If something comes

  through, I’ll pin it, you it. Go for weak points,

  generally joints. Winston?”

  “Yes?” Winston says, raising his hands. The flicker of Water

  turns to a torrent, streaming into spheres on his palms. I can see

  Guard Two pushing herself up from kneeling out of the corner of my

  eye, and Guard One isn’t far behind. I wonder which is Riverson and

  which one is Park?

  “Do, uh.” I pause. When was the last time I worked alongside a

  pure Mage, no weapons? “Mage stuff. And keep talking if you can,

  it’s good background noise.”

  Winston lets out a strangled noise, somewhere between a laugh and a

  huff. “Not a dreg of propriety in you these days, is there?”

  “I still do wine tastings, actually.”

  “Correctly?”

  “Takes a full barrel of whiskey to get me drunk, and I don’t stay

  that way. No need to spit out good wine.” I say with a tiny shrug.

  I’m letting years of practice take the reins with my work, moving

  from seam to seam with the precision of a good train schedule.

  “A half-dreg of proper noble bearing, then. Perhaps I should invite

  you to the next wine tasting at the Craumont estate?”

  I chuckle, pinching closed the last seam on the portal. “Oh,

  everyone would hate that. Especially me.”

  The world... eases, is the best way to describe it. Like emerging

  from deep water, or walking out of thick fog. The guards breathe twin

  sighs of relief, and I can see Winston’s shoulders sagging as I

  straighten and turn around. I take extra care to curl my tail so it

  doesn’t slip into the portal.

  “There’s your portal.” I say, pushing back a burst of pride in

  my chest. I gesture at the shimmering oval. “We had a little scare

  there, sure, but it’s now stable and ready for Delvers to stick

  their heads in. More or less.”

  Something crunches underfoot. Wood, from the sounds of it, and it

  prompts me to take a proper second look at my surroundings. At the

  chapel, with wrecked prayer seats and a few unpleasant looking cracks

  in the windows. Oh, and the broken door, and the remains of the

  monster outside, and so on. The mural is entirely intact though,

  ready to traumatize little kids!

  “Pity it’s in a chapel, though." I shrug, doing my best to

  sound conciliatory. Is that the right word? “I’ll be back in

  later, maybe tomorrow, to cut off the Delve Heart and seal this up.

  You want this sealed completely, right?"

  Winston runs a hand over his horns, which appear to have grown longer

  from a mix of depth and magic use, though they’re shrinking back

  down to a more manageable size as I watch. A quick look down confirms

  my hands still have dark, sharp nails, but the scales are fading

  quickly now.

  “Hmm. Yes, unfortunately. I'm tempted to keep it open, and hire

  someone to comb it for crystallized magic. I can't spare the guards

  to ensure nothing gets out into the city." Winston says. “Right.

  You’re not prepared to enter now? I suppose I should keep the

  guards posted here, shouldn’t I. Tripled detail, even, now that the

  door is broken. And the apprentice mage is coming around soon... hm.”

  He taps his chin, waving at the guards with the other hand. “I’ll

  have six sent when I leave. I’ll have to notify City Works about

  the door, allocate some gold from the disaster funding...”

  As Winston trails off into mutters and lordly stuff, I go back to the

  portal and inspect it.

  And by inspect it, I mean stick my hand in it. Gives me a good idea

  of how deep it is inside, and consequently how safe it’d be to just

  hop on in for a bit. I stick my tail through it, too, but that's just

  to entertain myself. It feels cold, and just a touch slimy, which has

  both my hand and tail exiting immediately.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “So what’s this about an apprentice mage?” I ask loudly. “I

  heard you and one of the guards mention it earlier, and I’m

  assuming you didn’t hire me to spite local mages.”

  My cousin grimaces, clasping his hands behind his back and beginning

  to pace. “There are no local mages. None in the profession, at

  least. They’re from Farrier or Kestrel, and I’m afraid I’ve no

  talent for teaching or apprenticing my own.”

  “So how is this an apprentice?” I raise an eyebrow, pulling my

  arm out of the portal. “Should be safe for them, at any rate. And

  why would you be bringing them here?”

  “To learn, of course, and not from a book for once.” Winston says

  drily, cracking a grin that would look more at home on me than a

  proper noble. “Those ‘big city’ mages despise being out here,

  away from civilization. I’d rather not put more gold in their

  hands.”

  I match it with my own toothy grin, flexing my fingers and letting

  out a little laugh. “And, let me guess, everyone hates them? Still

  doing that fake Ard Judician accent?”

  I let the trilling, rolling accent of central Ard Judicia bleed in,

  jerking my chin up and cocking my head like a bird.

  That gets a snort out of one of the guards, and a sigh from the

  other. Winston matches that sigh with his own, rolling his eyes.

  “I—”

  “My lord! I’m— um. I’m so sorry for being late, I had to drop

  off something at the church, and, and—”

  Helena Harkness, apprentice mage, stumbles around the corner, nearly

  tripping on a lump of twisted brass. Well, she does trip, but she’s

  able to find her balance quite quickly.

  Because of it’s her. My tail lashes again, but I stop

  it before it makes any noise.

  Winston perks up, and then perks up more when he sees the dread on my

  face. Gods, family suck. “Miss Harkness! It’s no trouble, truly.

  The Delver arrived early, you see, and did her job much faster than

  any we’ve hired before. As for the sealing of the portal, well.”

  Turning his head slightly, he gestures my way. “This is Ivy

  Crawford. Ivy, when do you plan on returning for the sealing?”

  “Ivy?” Helena squeaks, her voice pitched upward. She shuffles to

  the side to look at me. Or rather, her eyes are trained somewhere

  above my head. “Oh.”

  Oh, she says. It’s quiet, disappointed, and... ugh. I just give her

  a nod. “We’ve met, Winston, no need for introductions. We’re...

  hm.”

  “Acquaintances?” Helena offers with a wavering smile. “I’m

  sure I can work around her schedule.”

  Something aches in my stomach. “Sure.”

  “Excellent!” Winston claps his hands. “Guards, with me. Ivy,

  Miss Harkness, I’ll leave the details to you two. Ivy, I'll be back

  in a bit, but if I don't see you when you emerge, I'll see you at

  dinner tonight. Which, by the way, you are now invited to.”

  He pauses only to level a silent glare my way: no funny business, it

  says, don’t traumatize my mage. Or, who knows, maybe he’s still

  mad about the clogs comment.

  And like that, we’re left alone. Helena’s still hovering at the

  doorframe, and I’m still a few paces from the portal. No real way

  out except through her, not that would be a physical challenge.

  “So,” I say, breaking the sudden silence. “Uh. Hi, Helena?”

  “Hi, Ivy.” Helena replies. She runs a hand down her front,

  drawing my eyes down to the plain, practical clothes she’s changed

  into. She’s got a bag slung over one shoulder now with a few books

  peeking out, completing the look of a mage doing field work.

  “I’ve, um, thought about what you said, earlier.” Helena says

  quietly, looking at her feet. There’s more, but it’s mumbled and

  I can’t really understand it.

  “And you can’t trust me, right?” I roll my eyes, smirking.

  “That’s fine. I get it. Bet they told you some nasty stories,

  back at your church.”

  The silence is telling. Deafening, even. Lovely.

  “What?” Helena stares at me, her voice suddenly quite loud.

  “Restoration. I’m, I’m.”

  I stride up to her, tail dragging on a few stray pieces of wood to

  put some damned sound in this place. “You’re what?”

  She takes a deep breath, says something quiet to herself, and then

  locks my gaze with hers.

  "I won't stand for you threatening my friends and family, even

  if I know why." She sucks a deep breath in, jerking her chin and

  squaring her shoulders. "I— I’ve heard some stories, yes.

  I’m not sure I believe them, but..."

  There's a sinking feeling in my chest. I push past it. This was,

  after all, inevitable; I may as well just rip off the metaphorical

  bandage. "I'm not apologizing for any of that, if that's what

  you're hoping for."

  "I'm saying, Ivy," Helena stresses, jerking her chin up and

  taking a single step towards me. I take a half step back. "What

  I'm trying to say is that right now, I don't want to deal with that.

  Can we just get on with the job?"

  I had responses prepared. Several, actually. None of them would work

  here. So I scramble, tossing words together and tossing more than a

  few out, and give Helena a confused shrug.

  "What's so important about this? There'll be more portals."

  Helena's gaze sharpens, her tongue running across her lips.

  “Do you know how hard it was to get out here? Portals are

  dangerous, and they weren’t having the little tailor girl Eiches

  wander out to help some dangerous out-of-city Delver while Dame

  Amelia Crawford is in the city. Dame Amelia Crawford, who I've never

  heard of before today, but everyone at the Church is worried about

  her. Ridiculous. At least Lord Craumont is understanding."

  Helena storms past me, fists clenched. My jaw had slid open at some

  point, and I take this moment to slide it shut. “Well.”

  “I can take care of myself, thank you, and I don’t plan on being

  a tailor and clothesmaker my entire life. Gods, that would be

  miserable. So don’t tell me that you’re going to reschedule doing

  the actual Delve!” She jabs a finger at me, her eyes sparking with

  an inner fire.

  A tiny, conditional hope swirls in my chest. Sure, I'd be paying for

  my old mistakes for a while, but for now? “Well, it’s—”

  “You’re a Drake, and I can reinforce your clothes to resist most

  slashing and piercing. So, are we doing this, or not, Ivy?”

  “Excuse me?” I bite back a snarl, tamping it down with

  incredulity.

  Helena closes her eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “Oh,

  Restoration. There’s all these rumors, but you’ve been nothing

  but kind to me. I’m sorry.”

  “No, you aren’t,” I correct with a grunt, looking away. My tail

  whips across the ground with a , sending wooden scraps

  skittering away.

  By her own words, we'll probably just go our own ways when this is

  done. But I'd rather we don't walk away, just yet. Helena is far too

  interesting for that... and trying to escape her own life, like I did

  once.

  A plan forms in my head. It's a rough one, but it'll do; this is a

  low risk Delve and I've seen much worse.

  “I suppose not, um.” Helena's blush fades slightly. "I

  really do need to think about it."

  "Obviously." I gesture to the portal, picking my way

  through the splintered seats to stand over by Helena. "You'll be

  rid of me after this Delve, not before."

  “Oh, thank you, Ivy, really." Helena says politely, reaching

  into her pack and pulling out a thick tome. “Yes, of course. I’ve

  even practiced a few hard-edged structures that I can use with Wind

  to damage the more solid ones, and...”

  "I believe you." I cut in, raising an eyebrow. "You've

  got skill with that stuff, I saw that this morning."

  I try to crack an easy grin. It mostly works, and Helena doesn't

  flinch at all.

  “It shouldn't be too dangerous. Shallow, fresh Delve, and it'll be

  pretty quick.” I mull it over out loud, tapping my chin. “Fine.”

  “I need to enchant your clothes, first.” Helena points out,

  smiling as she gestures to my clothes. “They’re, um, too nice to

  get destroyed?”

  “Enchanting first,” I concede easily. “Then we Delve.”

  “And I’ll need to review all my structures, too. We have to go

  into this prepared!”

  I tilt my head to one side, fixing her with a single eye. “Weren’t

  you the one saying ‘Are we doing this or not’, Helena?”

  She turns a fascinating shade of tomato red, her words dissolving

  into incoherent mumbles. I can't help but smirk at it.

  Judging by the sundial outside, it ends up taking us a full hour to

  finish preparations. Helena's got her enchantments and spell stuff,

  and going over a few basic strategies takes a bit of time on its own.

  Without my equipment, I have to focus on using my magic to heal— an

  expensive task, and running magic through my body now is a good

  warm-up.

  I'd like to say something interesting happened, but it really was

  just prep work. At least we'd moved to a bench outside the chapel for

  most of it— no matter who you are, standing on hard flooring for an

  hour is just unpleasant on the feet.

  Oh, but now my clothes are a whole lot tougher, thanks to Helena. She

  does pretty good work, especially for someone without formal

  training.

  Right as we're moving back inside, though, a sudden thought occurs to

  me. An entertaining one, on top of being important.

  "Hey, Helena," I say, kicking aside a lump of wood. "Do

  you still have any of that fruit loaf, or did you give it all to your

  friends?"

  Helena smiles slightly, then pulls about a quarter of a fruit loaf

  out of her bag. "Friends and the rest of the church, of course,

  but I saved a little for a snack. Priest Dongbaek really liked it.

  Why, are you hungry?"

  "Thanks," I say, a bit surprised. It's actually pretty

  tempting, but she'll definitely need it more than I do. "But no.

  You'll want to eat all of that."

  She blinks, but takes a delicate bite without hesitation, wiping

  crumbs off her hand. "Okay. But, um, why?"

  "You do want to get hungry inside a Delve, Helena."

  I say, moving to stand right next to the portal. A slight grin

  crosses my lips. "An empty stomach gives people cramps in a

  Delve. Bad ones."

  She frowns. "Really? How bad?"

  "Worse than the monthly cramps some women get, even if they’re

  around the stomach instead," I gesture at myself, tapping my

  stomach and then my midsection. "I've even had a man give me his

  , after his first experience."

  Helena pales, going white as a sheet, and crams the rest of the loaf

  into her mouth.

  I do my best to not laugh at her, but my best isn't particularly

  good.