The three of us gathered our gear, making sure nothing got left behind, then we filed out of the forge into the bitter chill of the night. Thanks to my new Sigil, I hardly even felt it. My breath still misted in the air, and Harper’s teeth were chattering loud enough to count as Morse code, but for me it felt like a balmy seventy-two. Shorts and flip flop weather. The ethereal lights of the Polaris Vora stained the sky overhead and painted the snow-covered streets of Kringlegard in otherworldly shades of blue, green, and violet.

  “About time,” a voice called from the shadows.

  Temperance stepped into a pool of light, her arms crossed and expression unimpressed. A moment later, Croc emerged behind her in its usual blue dog form—still sporting that ridiculous red gnome hat. Not that the mimic was wearing it exactly. The hat was technically part of Croc’s body, which somehow made it worse.

  “I’m so glad you’re out of there,” Croc said. “You wouldn’t believe the number of times I had to talk her out of storming in there and trying to kill Nikoli on principle.”

  “Why didn’t you just radio us?” I asked.

  “I tried” she said, “all I got was static. There must be some sort of runic suppression field built into the walls of the forge.”

  I grunted. Honestly, that sounded entirely plausible. Nikoli was an enigma, armed with tech and tools so advanced I couldn’t even begin to wrap my head around ’em. A runic suppression field felt like exactly the kind of overcautious safety measure he’d have tucked away, just in case.

  “Well?” I asked, “did you find anything or what?”

  “Or what,” she replied quietly. “But we shouldn’t talk here.” She tapped her ear and mouthed the words, he might be listening. She glanced left and right, clearly searching for eavesdroppers or prying eyes. She looked cagey. Nervous. Which was strange. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen her look nervous. Pissed? Sure. Homicidal? Absolutely. Bored? At least once a day.

  But nervous? Never.

  Whatever she’d discovered today had shaken her.

  Temperance cleared her throat, then continued at a normal volume. “It’s been a long day,” she said, “Croc and I would love to tell you about the market while we walk. We discovered a great deal of interesting things that would make lovely editions to the store.” She turned and waved for us to follow as she slipped down a dark alley, which cut between a pair of nearby houses.

  I shared an uneasy glance with the others but followed.

  Temp led the way with sure footed confidence, her silhouette sharp against the cold glow of Kringledard’s lanterns. But instead of sticking to the main streets—crowded with Delvers even at this late hour—we took back alleys, empty side-streets, and cut throughs seemingly at random. She kept her pace steady, but moved with a weary caution, her eyes sweeping doorways and rooftops, searching windows for anyone who might’ve been looking our way.

  At one point, she paused at a frozen fountain, tilted her head to one side like she was listening for something only she could hear, then promptly changed directions, doubling back the way we’d just come. It took us nearly half an hour of weaving, retracing, and stealing through abandoned courtyards before she finally slowed and came to a stop.

  I slipped up beside her and dropped my voice low, “Do you think someone is following us?”

  “Not sure,” she replied, “but someone was most certainly tailing us earlier—though I’m not sure who.”

  “Wulfgar?” I suggested.

  “No, not Wulfgar,” she replied without a hint of doubt, as the others leaned in to hear her answer. “Wulfgar might act friendly toward Nikoli, but I suspect the opposite is true. Don’t get me wrong, Nikoli has his fair share of supporters, but once you stir the calm surface of this quaint little pond, you’ll find even more people who can’t stand him. They just won’t say it out loud. Not where anyone might be listening.”

  “What makes you so sure about Wulfgar?” I asked, replaying the conversation we’d had with the giant Viking earlier. He’d literally threatened to murder us all if we fucked around with Nikoli—not exactly the vibe of someone nursing a grudge. “Seems to me like he’s Nikoli’s right-hand man. If there were an award for Goon of the Year, he’d already have it framed on his wall.”

  “Appearances can be deceptive,” she said, “and believe me when I say there is no love lost between them. It took some digging, but with a few bribes, a little flirting, and several pitchers of mead, Croc and I managed to uncover something interesting. It turns out, Wulfgar was the last person to openly revolt against Nikoli. This was about five years ago. He and his wife rallied the blacksmiths and a good chunk of the local garrison in an attempt to oust Nikoli by force.”

  Huh. Now that was interesting. “What happened?” I asked.

  “Well, the night before they were set to raid Nikoli’s Soul Forge, Wulfgar’s son, Eirik, vanished. Gone without a trace. From what I could gather, the boy was only six or seven at the time. The next morning, Wulfgar found a gift-wrapped present waiting outside his door. No one knows exactly what was inside the box, but whatever it was convinced Wulfgar to disband his fledging rebellion. He’s been a perfect enforcer ever since.”

  “And it’s not just Wulfgar,” Croc added. “There have been two dozen disappearances since Nikoli showed up in Kringlegard ten years ago.”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “Remember that old guard woman from the gate?” Temp asked.

  “The one with the missing leg?” I asked, thinking back.

  “Yes, one and the same,” Temp replied. “We’ll, once Croc and I managed to get her well and truly drunk, she ended up being a treasure trove of information. Apparently, she was part of Wulfgar’s ill-fated rebellion. And from what we could gather, she still very much wants to see Nikoli tossed out on his ass.”

  “That’s putting it a bit mildly, don’t you think?” Croc said. “She said she wanted to cut off his limbs, slow roast him over an open fire, then feed him piece by piece to the Yetis.”

  Temperance grinned. “She has incredible anger issues, is deeply troubled and I think I might have found a new role model. But that’s not the point,” she said, waving a hand through the air. “She confirmed that wherever Nikoli goes, disappearances follow. She didn’t have any direct proof—none she was willing to share at any rate—but every single disappearance is tied to someone who spoke out against Nikoli in some way. A child, a spouse, a family member or close friend. Step out of line and they’re gone, just like Wulfgar’s little boy.”

  “Do you think Nikoli is killing them?” Harper asked, already sounding sick to her stomach.

  “Doubtful,” Jakob replied. I could already see the gears click-clacking away in his head. “If he kills them, he loses any leverage he might have. I doubt Wulfgar would be so loyal to Nikoli if the man had sent his son’s head in that box. But a finger or ear? Something to prove that the boy lives, but only at Nikoli’s discretion? That could be a powerful incentive to keep dissidents in line.”

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” I said, “that’s fucking dark.”

  There was definitely something off about Nikoli—but taking hostages? Torturing them to keep political rivals in line?

  That level of cold-blooded cruelty was hard to wrap my head around. It just didn’t seem possible. Then again, the Backrooms had a way of turning people into monsters. I’d seen it before. Hell, I’d felt it. The pressure to do terrible things out of necessity. When life and death was on the line, most people would do anything they deemed necessary—not matter how disgusting—in order to survive.

  Like blasting a hole through someone’s chest with a water cannon or engaging in the Necromantic arts.

  “How sure are you?” I asked.

  “Seventy-five percent,” Temp said. “Though I’ll admit, I actively dislike Nikoli, so maybe it’s just coincidence and confirmation bias—seeing shadows because I want them to be there. But even accounting for that... it still looks like a pattern to me.”

  “Assuming you’re right,” Harper said, “do you have any idea where he’s keeping the hostages? I can’t imagine it’s anywhere in town.”

  Temperance shook her head. “If anyone knows, they didn’t tell us, but if I had to guess, I’d say they’re in that Soul Forge of his.”

  “That would also explain why he can’t ask anyone else for help,” I said, mostly to myself. “If the hostages really are there, Nikoli can’t risk anyone from Kringlegard getting close enough to stage a coup. And even if they did help, he probably doesn’t trust them not to stab him in the back while he’s busy fighting Krampus.”

  “Your logic has merit,” Jakob said, nodding. “But as outsiders, just passing through. We’d have no reason to suspect anything. Everyone here praises Nikoli—at least in public. It’s entirely possible he intends to honor his bargain with us. He’s powerful, but so are we, and he has no leverage against us. Helping us leave the 49th floor quickly is in his best interest. He has no incentive to fight us, and every incentive to cooperate. It might be distasteful, but perhaps it’s best if we just follow the plan? Take down Krampus, then move on?”

  Croc stiffened. “Jakob, are you seriously suggesting we just walk away? If we’re right about Nikoli, we can’t leave those people. That wouldn’t be right.”

  “I’m not saying what we should do,” Jakob countered. “I’m just laying out the facts. If Nikoli’s guilty, then yes—he’s a monster. But that doesn’t automatically make him our enemy. Both can be true.”

  “No,” Croc said, voice firm. “I don’t buy that. Anyone who kidnaps a kid and uses them as leverage is a bad guy. And we don’t make deals with bad guys. Right, Dan?”

  I didn’t answer. Not immediately.

  Croc was right, but somehow that didn’t make this decision any easier. Making deals with someone who held children hostage went against everything I believed in. At the same time, we didn’t know these people. We didn’t owe them anything. And we’d worked with monsters before, when it had served our goals. My mind immediately flashed to the mysterious Director, who’d set our feet on this path in the first place. I had no doubt she was a monster who’d committed untold atrocities, but we’d gladly taken her intel and her gifts.

  The easy play was to help Nikoli take down Krampus, then keep moving. Head for the 75th floor and be done with it. But the easy choice rarely lined up with the right one.

  Truth was, I didn’t want to fight Nikoli—not on his home turf—but I also didn’t want to leave here knowing I’d let a bastard like him keep his boot on people’s throats.

  “Uh, Dan?” Croc prompted. “I said, we don’t make friends with bad guys.”

  “Yeah,” I said finally. “Of course not.”

  Croc didn’t let up. “Then what are we going to do?”

  I ran a hand through my hair, thinking.

  “Okay,” I said after a long pause. “We play along… for now. Like Temperance said, all we have is circumstantial evidence. Unless someone like Wulfgar talks, we don’t actually know anything. Not for sure. And if Wulfgar’s protecting his son, he’s not going to say a damn word. So, we stick to the plan. Help Nikoli take out Krampus. But before we leave, we find a way into the Soul Forge. That’s where the truth is. One way or another.”

  “What if Nikoli refuses?” Croc asked.

  My jaw tightened. “We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it. For now, though, we need to be ready for anything. Given what we know about Nikoli, I’m betting he’s already scanned our Spatial Cores. I doubt he could see all my Relics, because of their rarity levels, but he probably has a pretty good idea of what the rest of you are capable of. But once we equip these”—I pulled out one of the Nope.exe Sigils I’d crafted—“he won’t be able to see jack-shit.”

  “If he’s already scanned our cores,” Harper said, brow furrowed, “how does that help us?”

  “It’s going to help us because we’re about to upgrade all your Relics,” I said matter of factly. “Nikoli thinks he knows exactly what each of you can do—but if things go sideways, he’s gonna be in for a nasty surprise. We need to move fast, though. Daybreak’s not far off, and I need at least a few hours of sleep if I’m going to be worth a damn come tomorrow.”

  With a rough plan already forming in my head, we headed back toward the inn.

  No one said a word as we slipped through alleyways and backstreets, doing our best to stay under the radar. The tension was palpable. Hanging in the air and coiled in every movement. Everyone was on edge—eyes darting to rooftops, shadows, and dark corners like they expected Nikoli to materialize out of thin air.

  He didn’t. Not that I really expected him to.

  Nikoli was powerful, sure, but not omnipresent. And for now, he still needed us. He couldn’t take down Krampus on his own, which meant we were still useful. Still necessary.

  But once Krampus was gone?

  All bets were off.