Awakener's Guide to Climbing the Tower

Misha went still for a second. A week. So Alaric had been in Exodus before the Floor Quest collapsed into whatever this city had become.

He did not sound like a Raider who had climbed straight out of Floor 10 and stumbled into the settlement by accident. More likely, he had access to teleportation runes. Those were not exactly cheap.

Her gaze moved over him before she could stop herself. Gold embroidery ran along the dark fabric of his coat, understated only if one ignored the blue gemstone resting against his chest. He was definitely not poor, not even pretending to be. Then her eyes traveled back upward and met his.

Alaric had been watching her watch him. The corner of his mouth lifted. "Enjoying the view?"

Misha took another bite of bread. "No."

"Mm." He leaned back in his chair, looking insufferably comfortable. "I’ll allow the lie."

She ignored him. There was no point feeding that particular animal.

After finishing the last of her meal, Misha brushed a few crumbs from her fingers and leaned back. "What places do you actually know in Exodus?"

Alaric’s teasing expression softened into thought. "The central avenues, the southern market, two guild houses, though one is currently missing most of its eastern wall." He tapped one finger against the table as he counted. "Several taverns that are no longer useful for anything except making me mourn civilization, and most of the routes around the inner wall." His finger stopped. "I also know the Central Crematorium."

Misha’s attention sharpened before she could hide it.

"You’re trying to reach it to leave this floor, right?"

She watched him another moment before nodding. "Yes. But before the crematorium, I need Kiln House Four. There are people waiting for me."

His brows rose. "Survivors?"

"Yes." She reached for her water. "Three streets of the Central Crematorium. White chimney with a broken iron cap."

Alaric’s gaze drifted somewhere beyond her shoulder as he searched his memory. "White chimney..."

"You know it?"

"Not the building." He tapped two fingers against the table now, slower than before. "But I know Mortuary Row. I know the western approach to the crematorium, and Undertaker’s Run crosses behind the old ash warehouses before reaching the Kelin District."

She leaned forward. "That gets us close."

"It should." He smiled faintly. "I prefer not to promise certainty in a city where the dead are carrying weapons."

For once, she approved of the answer. There was no grand promise or ridiculous declaration that he knew exactly where they were going.

"If Kiln House Four has a white chimney," Alaric continued, resting his forearms against the table, "I can probably get us into the correct district without using the main avenue. I may even be able to help you find the building... on one condition."

There it was. Of course, he wasn’t doing this for free. She should have expected as much from a shameless bastard like him.

"Let me guess." A small smile slipped across Misha’s lips. "You want me to protect you."

Alaric looked wounded. "Sweetheart, please. I prefer to think of it as giving you the privilege of keeping me alive." He laid a hand over his chest. "I am simply placing something extremely precious in your care."

She raised a brow as she crossed her arms.

He smiled. "Me."

Misha couldn’t help but stare blankly at him. Just how shameless could one person become before the Tower recognized it as a Trait?

Her patience left in one long breath. "Ugh."

Alaric pushed his chair back. "Is that a yes?"

"That’s a ’you can come until you give me a reason to regret it.’"

He rose. Standing, he was tall enough that Misha had to tilt her chin slightly when he leaned closer. His grin returned in full. "My darling Shana, if regret is the standard, I should warn you now that I inspire it beautifully."

Misha picked up her water bottle, resisting the very real urge to empty it over his head. "Get your things."

He leaned back and bowed with theatrical grace. "As my lady commands."

===

Undertaker’s Run looked worse in daylight. The passage narrowed between buildings that leaned over the road as if exhausted from holding themselves upright. Iron walkways crossed overhead, old drainage channels ran along both sides of the street, clogged with blackened leaves, ash, and things Misha preferred not to identify.

The good news was that there was still no sign of the Vestiges.

She had expected some difference after what she had experienced last night, but the silence still felt wrong. It made Exodus look abandoned rather than infested. That distinction was not comforting.

"They must shelter during daylight," Misha murmured beneath her mask.

Alaric walked several steps ahead as he led the way. "Or sleep."

"Dead people sleeping sounds offensive."

"Perhaps they appreciate irony."

Misha looked toward the darkened window. She had no desire to find out what was inside.

"Whatever they do, I don’t want to wake them," he whispered.

’Finally, something we agree on,’ she thought.

They kept moving. Misha knew that following Alaric was not the same as trusting him. She watched which turns he took, counted intersections, noted every painted marker, and every alley they passed. If he suddenly disappeared, lied, or decided to lead her somewhere stupid, she wanted to know how to get back without him.

At the next corner, he abruptly raised one hand to which Misha stopped in time before bumping into him.

He crouched slightly and leaned toward the edge of the wall. A second late, he pulled back and raised two fingers in a ’V’.

Misha understood immediately. Vestige.

She drew Twinfang, then moved beside him. Her shoulder nearly touched him as she leaned just far enough around the corner to see.

One Vestige stood in the middle of the narrow lane, motionless and its head hung forward with its eyes closed. The remains of a dark apron covered its chest. One hand still held a short iron tool, though the fingers rested loosely around it instead of gripping.

Dormant, probably. Misha did not particularly want to test the difference between dormant and pretending.

She glanced up at Alaric, then placed one finger against the front of her mask.

He nodded obediently.

Misha stepped forward then... she felt a light tug behind her, making her stop and look down at it.

Alaric had two fingers curled into the back edge of the cloak.

She slowly turned her head and saw his expression was entirely serious as he pointed toward himself.

Right. Her cloak had [Silent Steps], a stealth mode effect. Meanwhile, his flamboyantly embroidered coat had no such effect.

Alaric gave her a small, hopeful smile. She could practically hear the explanation. "Strategic proximity."

Misha closed her eyes for one second, then she started walking. He followed closely enough for the cloak’s effect to blur some of his presence with hers. As they passed the Vestige, she could see the black filaments beneath the skin of its neck now, they remained still and the corpse’s chest did not rise.

Alaric’s fingers remained lightly hooked into the back of her cloak as they finally cleared the alley.

Only when another wall separated them from the dormant corpse did Misha breathe properly again.

"See?" He whispered as he released her. "Perfect teamwork."

She could only sigh once more.

The deeper they moved into the Kelin District, the more often she saw wax lines. Low on the left wall, small, and easy to miss unless someone knew where to look.

Her pace quickened. One line, and another at the next corner. Lysa and the others had made it this far. Relief came so quickly as they continued to follow.

Three more turns, the buildings opened onto a wider lane.

Misha saw the chimney first, white and its iron cap was broken along one side. Her chest loosened. "There."

Kiln House Four stood between two heavy stone warehouses or what remained of it.

She took two steps before stopping.

The front door was gone. The iron hinges remained attached to the stone frame, twisted outward and the door itself lay several meters inside, bent.

Misha’s relief died and Alaric stopped behind her. Neither spoke.

The air around the building felt wrong. There was no movement, no voices, no Carl, no old man stuttering nervously behind a shovel, nothing.

Misha tightened her grip on Twinfang. "Stay behind me."

Entering, she saw the first room had been destroyed. Furniture lay flattened against the floor. One table had snapped through the middle. The wall on the right carried a wide dent, stone cracked outward from a point several feet above the ground.

Something large had come through here. Very large.

Then... Misha saw the first body beside the remains of the stairs.