The walls of the Edgewise shuddered and groaned with the ominous tenor of overstressed wood. The cast iron chandelier hanging in the main common room shivered violently, causing a spinning dance of shadows and light across the stunned patrons occupying the table closest to the bar.

"What the devil?" Lady Agatha whispered. She cocked her head as a high pitched ringing filled the air. The ringing grew in volume and force, joined by a faint tinkling clatter. Lady Agatha had the good sense to glance down at the rows and rows of painstakingly collected and cataloged liquor from innumerable realms. The bottles clinked and vibrated in a manner that made her curse and duck under the shelter of the bar moments before several exploded, permeating the room with an eye watering perfume.

Lady Agatha heard the others cry out but couldn't chance a peek at their welfare as another bottle exploded, a shard of glass nicking across her cheek with a sharp sting. The counter over her head suddenly writhed, like a live creature, caught in some sort of seizure. The movement spurred a sliver of unease in her chest. Heaven's fire, give her an enemy she could swing at! Yosepf appeared beside her in a flutter of black cloth like settling crow feathers. His long mask was stained and splotched with liquor that dripped off the end of his prodigious beak. He caught one of the shivering bottles as it leapt from the bucking counter, sparing both of them a dousing of Humemarian Fire Water, a liquor that literally caught fire when exposed to open air.

The tavern gave one final creaking shiver and settled into a weighted silence.

"Are you alright, Lady Agatha?" He tilted his head, withdrawing a cotton swatch to apply to the cut on her cheek with his customary attention to detail. The position and dripping liquid from his beaked mask gave him the appearance of a curious bird caught in a rainstorm. She smiled and took over pressure on her cheek, carefully brushing his approximation of fingers aside.

"Quite, Yosepf, though I can't say the same for the Edgewise," she said, her words dipping to a murmur as she carefully rose to her feet. Most of the bar's collection of liquor lay in shattered ruins, swirls of iridescent liquid spreading over the floor, giving the appearance of an open wound. It felt like a wound. She glanced up to find the others huddled behind an overturned table, the large lad Caliban shielding his siblings and father with widespread arms.

"Anyone injured?" Lady Agatha clambered over the bar with warrior's grace, her muscles tense with battle alertness. The silence didn't feel like the end of a catastrophe but the beginning. She picked her way through fallen chunks of ceiling plaster, spilled liquor, and broken glass, her sense of unease wenching tighter as she crouched down beside the others.

"We survived," said Cesario, her elfin face pale as she glanced around. "The tavern's not healing."

Lady Agatha blinked, pin pointing her sense of unease. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing good," said Cesario.

"I should check upstairs," said Lady Agatha, bracing her fingers against the underside of the table. "See how much damage was done to--" Her fingers traced carved grooves in the wood. She frowned, shifting her fingers. There, scoured into the ancient wood of the tavern's table was a name. "Melvin Deacon."

The name tingled on her tongue. Lady Agatha stared at the name, unable to look away, slowly tracing each letter with utmost care.

"I carved this," she whispered. A rushing sensation filled her thoughts, curdling in her stomach, as if she'd pitched headlong off a cliff, watching the rapid approach of the ground with no way to stop the impact. A lifeline thread of knowledge flickered through her thoughts, a memory she reached for, intangible and vital, gasping aloud as it slipped through her fingers. The ground rose up to meet her for real.

Yosepf heard her gasp, leaping over the bar in an effortless bound. He caught her before she hit the glass strewn ground, alarmed by the way her eyes rolled up into her skull. "Lady Agatha!"

He frantically patted his person for smelling salts with one hand, as the others crowded round.

"What happened to her? I thought she only had a cut to the cheek?" Cesario inspected the scene as the others fussed, her eyes cutting to the name carved beneath the table and quickly shying away as a wave of nausea rolled up from her gut. She dared to look at it from the corner of her eye, the safest method of doing so, but the violent rebellion of her body informed her of all she needed to know.

"We appear to have stumbled upon a secret," said Cesario.

The group fell silent at a click, turning as one. The front door of the tavern creaked as it swung open, chased by a swirl of fog.

Cesario's eyes widened. This was not good, not good at all. "Close it! Close it now!" Those on their feet broke in a mad scramble for the door. Ariel reached it first, skidding to a stop as he slammed the door shut and braced himself against it.

"Shut! We're good. We're good right?"

The floorboards creaked above them. The group glanced upward.

Cesario swallowed hard. "Anyone have a spare sword?"

On the second floor of the tavern, the once hidden door swung open on defeated hinges. Jacob Henderson entered the broken room, taking in the charred floorboards and broken furniture. For a moment, he leaned heavily on his cane, feeling every second of the long years he'd experienced to bring him to this moment. He felt...tired and somewhat disappointed to be experiencing this triumph without Mack present. In the end, the tavern master proved predictable.

A self deprecating smile slipped over Henderson's face. Not the smartest being in existence, he'd accepted that reality long ago, but the tavern master continued to make the choices Henderson needed him to make. And now...

He lifted a hand before him, snapping his fingers. A photo appeared, one of familiar man with warm hazel green eyes and unruly dark hair. Henderson sucked in a breath. The resemblance truly was uncanny, a genderbent doppelganger. It was an odd sensation, standing there, staring at the man's sunny smiling face, considering this broken room was where he died, and where she was born.

It was also a doorway to something far, far greater.

Henderson tucked the photo in his front pocket, tracing a long forgotten pattern across the floor boards. The room blurred for a moment, but the Edgewise currently didn't have the energy to fend him off and with a final defiant snarl of wood, the floor peeled back, revealing an elegant wrought iron staircase descending in a tight spiral. He pursed his lips, setting the cane aside. He didn't need the disguise anymore. He began to descend into the dark, catching sight of the pale, ragged Cesario as she raced for the door.

Henderson held a finger to his lips.

"Shhh." With a snap of his fingers, he sealed the room.

"Sweet scribe!" Cesario slammed a hand against the surprise wall. The room had vanished and Henderson with it. Her pulse ratcheted up another notch as the Edgewise shivered, the tavern's ever present light flickering. The tavern went dark. "Mack, we need you."

She couldn't stay here. The others had to be warned. They needed to prepare, though for what she was uncertain. Cesario took a step toward the stairs and jumped at the crinkle under her foot. Frowning, she shifted her boot, finding a small crisp portrait on the ground. Two man laughed up at her, Mack and another. She lifted the portrait higher, studying the stranger's face, somehow achingly familiar, and froze.

She remembered.

Calponia hit the deck hard, the impact jarring up through her knees. She couldn't have caught herself if she tried, her skin still humming as the bête noire curled up inside her. Kraken dust fell on the Nephele like ashen snow. Eugene landed nearby in a far more graceful roll, though he stumbled as he tried to stand.

She blinked at him as he looked up at her, his pale face sweaty. His irises had cooled to their familiar red rimmed brown, but held a glassy sheen.

"I feel unwell," he said. His shoulders heaved. The vampire's expression turned incredulous a moment before he vomited black bile over the deck. He was still going by the time she crawled over to him, unable to do much more than sweep his hair back.

"There, there," said Calponia, unsure how one comforted a sick vampire. She awkwardly patted him between the shoulder blades. "I'm sure Krakens don't agree with anyone's digestive tract." She bit her lip to keep from laughing as the vampire glared up at her between dry heaves. She couldn't help it, Calponia felt giddy. The Krakens were p*wned, they had survived--

Her mouth went dry as she caught sight of Mack, cradling Eleni's limp form in the middle of the deck.

"No," she whispered, the giddy sensation fading away like the rest of the ash. Eugene grabbed her by the wrist as she stepped forward, his gaze warning her as her aware prickled. There was a sound, a low keening hum that spoke of grief and danger. Was Mack the source? Or the Edgewise? Maybe a combination of the two. She knelt beside the vampire.

"Can you stand?"

He made a face as he swallowed, furiously scrubbing at his mouth. "With help," he murmured, clearly mortified by the fact. She slid her arm around him, providing him with a stable hand hold rather than actually lifting him. The vampire weighed a ton. She barely managed not to stagger as he hauled himself up. As it was her face smushed up against his chest. He eased off her and paused, pressing a hand over his heart, a bewildered look on his face.

"What is it?"

He gaze swung to her. He looked at her like he'd never seen her before. Eugene flinched. "Nothing, it's nothing. Come on." The two made their stumbling progress across the deck. Calponia didn't think he actually needed her aid, but she didn't point that out to him. All too soon, they reached Mack.

Calponia's eyes burned as she looked over the female captain. Gone the moment the Kraken stabbed her through, Eleni's tiger gold eyes were closed, her expression slack and peaceful in death. Calponia liked the fierce captain. She didn't deserve a death like this, but who deserved any death. Instead, she wanted to reach for Mack, but Eugene stopped her. It was then she noticed the others, Ravelock, the Munch, and the crew, keeping a healthy distance away, their expressions collectively tense.

This close she could see Mack's shell shocked expression, his eyes glazed over.

"Mack?"

His face tilted up towards her. She sucked in a breath at the dark swirl of emotion she saw there. The high keening jangled against her nerves.

"I can fix her," he said, the broken words raising goosebumps along her skin. Mack had come back from a few mortal wounds. He'd raised corpses for questioning and played hard and fast with rules of mortality but this, this felt off. This felt dangerous and almost selfish.

"Mack, she's gone," said Calponia.

"Not for long," said Mack, placing a hand on the dead woman's forehead.

Ravelock stepped forward. "You're not a god, Mack."

Mack ignored the captain, looking up at Calponia. "I'm sick of losing my friends," he whispered.

Calponia's lips parted. What would it be like to live so long? She never seen him look so fragile, not even when he discovered Henderson's betrayal. How many friends had he lost over the years? How did he cope with that accumulation of loss?

"Mack," said Eugene, his voice quiet. "You know you can't do this."

"Can't? Why not? You dragged the pirate from death's door."

Anger flashed across Ravelock's features. "I was still alive, you bloody fool!"

Eugene took a slow step forward, as if approaching a wounded wolf. What did they think Mack was capable of? "Would you cage her spirit in a rotting body?"

Mack shuddered, his expression so lost and conflicted. Calponia couldn't stand this. She skirted around the others and wrapped her arms around her teacher, her protector, and her friend. Mack stiffened, before the tension drained out of him. He hesitantly returned the embrace, pressing his face into her shoulder. She felt an internal sigh as the danger passed, but the high keening remained.

Calponia frowned, glancing around over Mack's head as she tried to pinpoint the source. She looked up.

"Mack!"

He jolted, following her gaze. The air above them burned gold, a sparking sizzling outline of a doorway.

"No, no, no, no!" Mack shoved her behind him as the burning door opened. She knew what the sound was now.

The Edgewise was screaming.

For a breathless moment, she saw into the ruined common room of the tavern. Cesario raced for them, her arm outstretched, her face pale and bloody from a cut through one eyebrow.

"Mack! It's him! He's--"

The doorway rippled. The common room disappeared behind a wall of stone before the shape lost all cohesion and dissolved with a snap. A small plastic rectangle fluttered down, landing face down beside them, a photograph. Mack stared at the vacant space, stunned. Calponia reached for the picture, apprehension running razors along her nerves. She held up the picture of Mack and the stranger.

"But Henderson destroyed it," she said, holding the picture up to him.

He plucked it from her fingers, his expression shuttered as he traced the stranger's face with one fingertip.

"We've run out of time."