Majestria was clawing her way up the tilted floorboards with nothing but raw muscle. No weapons, no tools—just digging her fingers in like so feral raccoon trying to escape a dumpster.
Lickthorn, anwhile, was buried in a writhing heap of bodies. She wasn’t screaming for help—no, she was laughing like a lunatic, clearly having the ti of her life. Honestly, saving her would’ve ruined the mont.
Chestelle was dangling halfway down the boards, her nails digging grooves into the wood as she held on for dear life. Practical, sure. But also horrifying. Finn didn’t even want to think about what her fingers were going to look like after this.
And Elise... Elise actually looked normal. She’d perched herself on the edge of the counter like a nervous cat, frozen in place, too scared to commit to moving anywhere. Out of all of them, she made the most sense. Which sohow made her the weirdest of the bunch.
’Well damn! What the hell am I supposed to do?!’
Finn knew the answer: absolutely nothing. He wasn’t built for heroics. His best bet was standing here, looking useless, and praying Silvara bailed everyone out.
He glanced at her—only to find her just standing there, calm as a rock in the middle of the storm. No frantic movents, no super spy tricks. Just... staring.
She noticed him staring back. "What is it."
"What do you an what is it?!" Finn threw his arms up. "The whole place is collapsing! Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, do sothing? Maybe save my friends? Or us? Or—I don’t know!"
Silvara blinked once, unbothered. "So what do you want to do? Save your friends... or get you out of here?"
The question smacked Finn right across the face. He hadn’t expected her to dump the choice on him like this. This wasn’t supposed to be his call. He wasn’t ready for responsibility—he’d barely been ready to register for college classes back on Earth.
But if he hesitated, they were all dead.
"Go save them," Finn said at last, trying his best to sound serious, even though his voice cracked halfway through.
"Very well."
That was all she said before moving. With one smooth motion, she rolled her wrist and a knife slipped from her sleeve, tied to a thin string. And then—without hesitation—she let herself fall backwards into the chaos below.
Finn’s jaw dropped. She plumted like so hooded assassin from a very famous video ga franchise that may or may not rhy with "Assassin’s Need." At the last second, she lashed her arm out, the knife’s string hooking perfectly around a pillar.
The line snapped taut, and Silvara swung through the chaos like it was just another Tuesday.
She wasn’t saving them yet. But damn, it already looked aweso.
***
anwhile, Silvara was busy saving everyone like the professional assassin-angel she was, but Finn... Finn didn’t want to just stand there looking like a useless dead weight. No—he wanted to contribute. He wanted to help.
Problem: he had the survival skills of a wet fart.
So, naturally, he decided to shuffle along the railing. Carefully. Very carefully.
Every step made the railing shriek and groan like it was filing a noise complaint against him personally. The sound drilled into his ears, and Finn started talking to himself just to keep his sanity intact.
"Okay, okay, don’t panic. Just think about food. Food is safe. Food is happy. What do I want when we get to the kingdom? Chicken? Or lamb? Lamb’s fancier, but chicken’s reliable. Oh god, I’m gonna die hungry, aren’t I?"
The railing dipped and Finn froze. He dared a glance upward to his right—and froze again, this ti from realization.
He recognized this balcony. He’d been here three nights ago when he and his crew had been forced to sleep in that awful, small inn room. The mory was burned into his brain—not because of the room, but because of the two very loud n in the next one who’d been... enthusiastically testing the strength of the bed fra. And also Majestria nearly killing him with her thighs.
Just rembering it made Finn squirm. His brain tried to play the audio back, and he nearly gagged.
But then—an idea hit him like divine inspiration.
The windows. They could use the rooms and climb out through the windows to escape.
’I am a genius!’ Finn thought proudly. If Silvara had been near, he would’ve bragged about it until she threw him off the balcony herself.
Now ca the tricky part: reaching the door.
Finn eyed the nearest one. The sign above it read 3/7. Just a door over was 2/7—the sa room he’d stayed in before. That fact made him chuckle for no real reason at all. Maybe the stress was getting to him, or maybe he just really liked numbers.
Either way, he needed to get to that door.
He crouched a little, trying to plan it out, until the building shuddered violently beneath him. The railing rattled, almost throwing him off, and a chorus of screams rose from below.
Finn’s stomach twisted, but he clenched his teeth. He couldn’t freeze now.
"Fear is what kills speed... right? Or is it ’speed kills fear’? Whatever. Close enough." He muttered to himself.
He locked eyes on the door, steadied his breath, and stepped sideways, preparing to make his move.
Finn shut out the chaos around him, eyes narrowing past the door itself and into the room beyond. He combed through the shadows with his mind until—there. A chair.
He latched onto it ntally, channeling every ounce of focus into lifting it—and then—wham!
The chair flew across the room like a missile, smashing dead-center into the door. The lock exploded in splinters, the doorknob clattering into the void, and part of the railing across from where Finn had been standing was obliterated in the process. The chair even plumted down, smacking so poor bastard unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong ti.
Finn just stood there, eyes wide, stomach sinking.
"...oh my god. I’m a space wizard."
The horror didn’t quite balance out the tiny thrill of satisfaction. Yeah, that was way cooler than being an adventurer. He preferred that. Definitely.
Now the door hung open, broken and mangled. All Finn had to do was get there. Simple, right? Just a leap of faith over death and doom.
He hated the thought instantly. His legs already twitched with refusal.
Finn drew in a breath, shutting his eyes. He backed up slowly, trying to psych himself up. He could do this. He had to—
CLANG!
A deafening tallic thud echoed across from him.
Finn’s eyes snapped open—and imdiately soured. He did not like who he saw one bit.
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