Spellweaver’s description had warned Lukas to tread carefully as the consequences could potentially be disastrous. That didn’t matter now. He was specifically looking for disastrous consequences.

It was slow progress because of the dome’s brightness. They crept closer to the growing settlement, sticking to the walls and dashing between covers. All attention seemed focused on the cavern’s primary entrance. It seemed they didn’t know about the alternate entrance. The only reason the clones discovered it was because they split up following the initial separation, and the survivor had no choice but to stick to the shadows during his escape. He fumbled upon it in the dark. Now, as Lukas moved along the ground, he struggled to spot the passageway’s entrance.

As they approached, Lukas scanned for the Elder Wyrmkin, who had successfully peered through Silencing Shadows. Unlike the more bird-like variant he encountered following his arrival on Fracture, there weren’t many obvious distinctions between the males and females. They were all roughly the same size with indistinguishable body shapes.

The majority of the specimens had brightly colored plumage. They were neatly kept but also appeared adorned for showing off and standing out. As Lukas observed, he noted how they also moved and worked as more of the subservient class, taking orders from a few with grey or black feathers and simple metallic ties and trinkets.

“If they’re anything like the other Wyrmkin, the colorless ones are the women,” El-Four said.

Lukas nodded. “I think so too. They’re probably like peacocks and tropical birds. The males are colorful so they can attract the opposite gender.”

“And the opposite gender happens to be the one in charge.” The clone pointed at the ritual laboratory. “There she is, boss. At the head of the pentagram.”

He recognized the creature from the clones’ memories. The Wyrmkin didn’t stand out from the rest. Her scales were pale grey, almost egg-shell white, and dark spots carried the most of her back. The creature’s charcoal feathers were mostly concentrated on the back of her head and neck, forming a feather-boa-like collar. She didn’t stand out from the crowd, but Lukas felt several powerful arcane threads connecting her to the laboratory, settlement, and cavern.

Every minute with Spellweaver made him fall in love with the ability more. It wasn’t just for the metamagic but also for intelligence-gathering power. He could foresee it becoming an integral part of him like the clones, becoming a part of who he was as a person and not just his toolkit. Now, it didn’t just help him identify the most powerful individuals in the room but also locate their defenses.

The journal vibrated every ten seconds as they moved, following a thread to the edge of the settlement. It seemed excited now that they were so close to one of Silverspine’s interests. The soulbound object wished to see its creator’s needs and wants fulfilled. Lukas checked its pages, ensuring the journal had nothing important to say before continuing. His heart raced, and his temples throbbed. Quite some time had passed since he’d taken on such a risk. During his last delve, he had Penelope for protection. Now, if something went wrong, he only had the clone for protection.

The pair gave the ritual laboratory a wide berth and took their time during their approach. By the time they reached the point where several arcane threads converged, the Elder Wyrmkin had started to stir.

A slender but colorful specimen came sprinting down the tunnels, its beady eyes seemingly ready to pop out of its head. “Big magic! Big magic coming, Shamin!”

“Deal with it,” the powerful eggshell Wyrmkin yelled back. Lukas was sure he was listening to speech translated by the journal, but the ‘Shamin’s’ speech somehow sounded far more refined. “Our ritual is almost over, yes? Slow them. Then, our new pet will finish them off. Yes?”

“But big, big magic, Shamin! Blue cold fire. Scary woman. Big scary cat. They coming.”

“By Drakan!” The Shamin screamed. The ritual circle’s lights weakened, and several arcane threads lost their potency. Her eyes shimmered crimson as they drifted over the remaining ritualists. “Don’t stop. We need big ‘un.”

“Perfect,” Lukas whispered as the Shamin followed what he assumed was a scout. “Watch my back.”

“It’s what I was born to do, boss,” El-Four replied.

All the nearby arcane threads converged on a totem of wood, bone, and stone. It was tied together with sinew, intestines, and crimson string and decorated to look like a dragon taking flight. Lukas studied it closely, feeling out each individual strand. The bulk of them connected to the laboratory, and the next largest bundle flowed into different parts of the housing and cooking areas. Of all the remaining groupings and individual strands, three stood out to Lukas.

One connected to the entrance tunnel. He didn’t dare touch it, worried about triggering a collapse or worse. The next pair flowed deeper into the cavern, disappearing near the silver dome. Lukas guessed the Shamin had tried to commune with the serpent sleeping within or made attempts to penetrate the protection before moving on to other strategies. He wrapped his fingers around the final bundle.

The knot felt familiar. It was similar to what he had sensed outside Penelope’s door. The sensation around it was also something he had grown accustomed to as his arcane senses developed. It was a field of protection and concealment, with a few other enchantments mixed in. Unlike Penelope’s ward, it didn’t evenly cover the set area. More threads connected to the ritual laboratory and where the glass jars of unidentifiable biomass sat than the rest of the settlement.

Spellweaver was potent, but until Lukas improved his knowledge of magic and spell elements and polished the fundamentals, he could rely on nothing but instinct. He had to individually feel and inspect each of the strands in the bundle to guess what each of them did. They connected to different locations or seemed to provide different kinds of protection, and one pair seemed to link all of them.

He hesitantly touched the first. The entire bundle trembled, as did the dome of protection. Lukas hastily pulled away. It was far too powerful and deeply set. He was sure that he didn’t have enough magic or power to mess with it. In fact, Lukas was sure that messing with it too much would alert the Shamin and any powerful magic users. Instead, he focused his attention on the final and most flimsy thread.

It took Lukas a moment of inspection to figure out that it was a twisting of several much finer strands that unraveled as it moved further from the totem. Most curious of all was how barely any of them remained still. He followed the four that weren’t moving, and they led to the ritualists still working their magic in the laboratory.

“Is it empowering them, boss?” El-Four asked.

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“I don’t think so,” Lukas answered, carefully feeling out the magic. It seemed all of the threads in the lot attached to everything. He dropped Silencing Shadows for a moment, and a strand tried to attach him too. “Drop all your spells.”

“What?!” The clone frowned. “They might detect me.”

“They’re too busy. Just do it. I need a confirmation.”

“Fine.” El-Four sighed. “Whatever you want.”

A new strand spawned and attached itself to the clone as soon as he released Silencing Shadows.

“Now try to activate them again.”

“I... I can’t.”

Lukas dispelled the clone and resummoned a stalker almost straight away. It manifested with Silencing Shadows active. “It’s an exclusion list,” Lukas said before tearing the thread.

The change was instant. Lukas’s soulbound journal vibrated, and the ritualists fell to the ground, clutching their heads. Conjured tethers of orange light had connected two of them to the held-down phaser. Physical chains also held it down, but now, they seemed to strain as it writhed and attempted to rise.

“What happened?” One yelled.

“Check the totem!”

“Subdue the beast first.”

“My magic isn’t working!”

Lukas grinned, nodding at El-Four. The clone understood its task. He picked up the pack the old El-Four had dropped when dispelled and slunk off toward the laboratory. One ritualist had already run to the settlement. Another was still on the floor. Meanwhile, the other two struggled to get the mutated phaser under control. They weren’t having an easy time.

It wouldn’t be long before someone came to check on the totem. He saw similar structures around the settlement, and it seemed they were all part of a giant network. A pair of Elder Wyrmkin were already studying one near the huts. Lukas didn’t stick around. He retreated, making his way to a shadowed area that was far enough to avoid their search but not so far that he’d have trouble dashing in and helping his clones and allies.

The fight started in the Elder Wyrmkin’s favor. They had a pair of powerful bowmen whose arrows carried enough power to shatter stone. Meanwhile, all of Penelope’s spells fizzled, flew off course, or simply failed as they approached the target. Bass, Elvis, and El-Three attempted to close in on them, but the incoming attacks made it impossible. All of their cover fell apart after a couple of shots.

“Warning wards. Misfire wards. Redirection wards.” The familiar shrank to its house-cat form, just about dodging an incoming fireball. “What else do these bastards have?”

“We need to get close,” Elvis said. “If I can just get close—”

An arrow interrupted him. It shattered stone right next to his head, spraying him with shards of rock. Several pieces pinged off the visor. If not for the helmet, he would’ve probably lost an eye. They were forced to scatter, dashing for other covers. None of them retreated. Despite the incoming barrage, they all pushed onward.

Bass had no trouble slipping through in his smallest form. Elvis followed him with his shield raised, covering from nose to hip. He kept the upper half of his head exposed to watch enemy movements and dodge if any of them targeted him. El-Two didn’t bother with the shield. Instead, he flared Shade’s Mantle, making himself look bigger, and moved hunched over, zigzagging toward their foe.

Meanwhile, Penelope continued to launch probing spells. The narrow space and enemy defenses kept her from launching anything more potent. She didn’t just have to worry about striking her allies but also not causing a collapse. Then, their advance would be cut off, and there was also the danger of everyone ending up buried under the rubble.

A powerful projectile punched through Elvis’s shield. It dug into his shoulder guard, almost knocking him off his feet. His high mass helped him survive the blow and stay upright. He staggered but managed to right himself and slip into cover.

Things changed suddenly and abruptly. It started with the arrows losing their power. Then, one of Penelope’s cold fire projectiles exploded against the enemy’s barricade. Instead of fizzling out straight away, it burst into azure flames, forcing the archers to scatter. Penelope successfully took out a couple of other swift bolts.

The eggshell Elder Wyrmkin from the clones’ memories emerged through the entrance tunnel, riding the same giant lizard that had killed one of them. It leaped over the flaming barricade and charged through the attacks. Both rider and mount appeared furious as they approached, fluorescent green flames flickered in her raised hand. Each time they went out, she appeared to get angrier. The pair were halfway to Penelope before the green fireball finally materialized.

Unfortunately for the Elder Wyrmkin, Bass was lying in wait. He leaped out of his hiding place and immediately multiplied in size, throwing his full weight into the lizard’s side. It knocked the creature over and sent the rider flying. Ice spikes burst from through the stone floor, impaling the summon and trapping it in an ugly, uneven cage. The rider let loose an angry scream and sprayed tongues of emerald flames from her hand. One at Bass and another at her companion. It didn’t reach Penelope.

“Go!” She screamed. “All of you. I got the shaman!”

The clones didn’t need to tell twice. They sprinted away from the flame-throwing Elder Wyrmkin and into the cavern. Much to their surprise, Bass followed. El-Two didn’t think the familiar would willingly leave his bonded companion during the heat of battle. He clearly believed the shaman was no challenge for her.

Things were just as chaotic inside the giant cavern. A rampaging, mutated phaser ripped through the camp. Several Elder Wyrmkin lay dead around the ritual laboratory, what looked like a kitchen, and dining area. Most of the huts were also in shambles. A giant phaser with a reptilian head and monstrous tail rampaged through it, speeding around at blinding speeds. A trio of armed Elder Wyrmkin danced around it, moving with speed and grace that put the normal Wyrmkin to shame.

“What do we do?” Elvis asked after Bass shot past them.

“Why are you asking me?”

“You’re in charge here.”

“No, I’m not!!” El-Two protested, nervously looking down at Bass, who was halfway to the phaser and Wyrmkin warriors. He was far enough away not to hear, and Penelope was busy far behind them. “El-Prime never said that.”

“It was implied.”

“Well, we’re not going to survive the phaser.” He thought things over for a moment before pointing at the ritual circle’s edge. “Look over there.” A mound of alchemical supply sat by the shadows. It grew with every passing moment. “El-Four is there, and he needs help setting things up. We can start there.”

Both clones used haste. Since Elvis was in a high-mass state, he struggled to keep up. As he got closer to the settlement, El-Two felt his state change to low-mass. His speed increased abruptly, almost causing him to trip and fall. He hated the puppeteering but understood the necessity. Until they were stronger and more self-sufficient, El-Prime would continue to meddle and micromanage.

El-Two swung the three-stage spear into a totem as he reached the cavern floor. Its sturdiness caught him off guard. The weapon rebounded, and it hummed, shivering. Similar sounds spread around the cavern, and a tremor followed.

Coincidence, right?

He redirected his attention to where the biomass containers sat. El-Two sped over to them and attacked the closest with a sharp, well-aimed kick. He failed to damage the glass but sent it tumbling across the laboratory and into the wall. It rolled around noisily, clinking against obstacles before coming to a stop. Then, it audibly cracked.

Elvis caught up to him a moment later, panting. “That’s not going to work, moron.” He hefted the hammer. “Pile them up. I’ll take care of things.” A scream drew their attention to the ongoing battle. The phaser had downed one of the warriors. “Why aren’t they using magic?”

“They can’t,” El-Two replied, doing what his fellow clone had asked. “Even something as simple as our Frars were subdued. El-Prime’s plan worked. He disrupted whatever protection this place has.”

The clones worked together, gathering containers. Neither El-Four nor El-Prime came to their assistance. The first continued with whatever he had planned with the alchemical brews. The other was still nowhere to be seen. Knowing him, the clone was sure his creator wasn’t sitting idle. He had something grand, terrifying, and probably reckless brewing.