Night fell completely an hour after the last survivor bound to the Anchor Point.
And with the darkness came the water.
I noticed it first. My Flesh Sight showed me things others couldn't see—and what I saw through the corruption-sealed entrance made my blood run cold.
The grey water wasn't just lapping at the shore anymore.
It was rising.
Slowly. Inexorably. Like a tide coming in, except there was no moon here. No celestial body to pull the water. Just the world itself deciding the water should climb.
"Somi," I called out. She was coordinating the watch rotation near the center of the temple. "We have a problem."
She approached, her Magic Seeker mask glowing faintly in the red bioluminescence. Her tactical vision activated, analyzing what I was pointing at.
"The water level is increasing," she confirmed, voice flat. "Current rate: approximately two inches per minute. If it continues at this rate, the temple entrance will be submerged within ninety minutes."
"And we're inside," Gery said, joining us. "Sealed in."
"The corruption barrier is keeping creatures out," I said. "But what about water? Will it keep that out too?"
My mask answered before anyone else could.
No. Water is not an enemy. Water is part of her. The Mother is the water. The water is the Mother. When it rises, she rises. When it enters, she enters.
"The seal won't stop the water," I said aloud. "It'll flood in. We'll drown unless—"
"Unless we move higher," Kael interrupted, having overheard. He was studying the temple's interior structure. "Look. There."
He pointed upward.
The temple wasn't single-story. Stone stairs, mostly covered in flesh corruption, spiraled up the interior walls. Leading to upper levels. Multiple levels, actually—I could see at least three floors above us.
"We climb," Somi stated. "Establish position on the highest accessible floor. Wait for the water to recede."
"Does it recede?" someone asked nervously. "Or does it just keep rising?"
Good question.
It rises with the night, my mask explained. Falls with the day. This world breathes. Inhale, the water rises. Exhale, the water falls. The Mother's breathing. The tide is her respiration.
"It'll go back down when morning comes," I said. "This is a cycle. Day and night. Tide low and tide high. We just have to survive until dawn."
"How long until dawn?" Maria asked. She was one of the unbound—pale, shaking, clearly suffering.
Somi calculated. "Unknown. We have no reference for this world's day-night cycle. Could be six hours. Could be twelve. Could be longer."
"So we might be trapped up there for half a day," another survivor said. "With no food, no water—"
"We don't need food or water here," I reminded him. "The bound don't, anyway. The world sustains us. The unbound..." I looked at Maria and the thirteen others who'd refused to bind. "You'll be uncomfortable. But you won't starve. Not in one night."
They'll just suffer, the mask added. Slowly weakening. Slowly dying. While you grow stronger. Fair, isn't it?
"Shut up," I muttered.
We moved as a group. Twenty-three bound survivors helping fourteen unbound climb the spiral stairs.
The stairs were treacherous.
Stone beneath, but covered in that slick, oily fluid. The flesh corruption grew thick on the walls, pulsing with bioluminescence, providing just enough light to see by.
Each step was wet. Slippery. The organic film made everything unstable.
Lucy nearly fell twice. I caught her the second time, my enhanced strength from the Anchor binding making it easy to steady her.
"Thanks," she breathed. Her Lightning Wand crackled nervously in her hand.
"You okay?"
"No. This place is wrong, Sidd. Everything about it is wrong." She looked at my arm—at the black-red veins glowing faintly through my sleeve. "And we're becoming part of it."
"To survive."
"I know. But at what cost?"
I didn't have an answer for that.
We climbed higher. The spiral stairs went up thirty, forty, fifty feet. The ground level disappeared below us, obscured by the flesh-covered walls.
Behind us, I heard splashing.
The water had reached the temple entrance.
"Move faster!" Kael commanded. "The flood is starting!"
We picked up pace. Some survivors were struggling—the unbound especially. They lacked the enhanced stamina the rest of us had gained. They were exhausted, weak, barely able to climb.
Gery and two other bound survivors had to carry them. Literally throw them over their shoulders and haul them up the stairs.
I looked down.
The grey water was seeping through the sealed entrance. Not breaking through—just seeping. Like the corruption barrier was permeable to liquid. The water filtered through slowly, pooling on the ground level floor.
And in the water, I saw movement.
Things swimming.
Pale shapes. Writhing. Too many limbs.
Her children, the mask whispered. They live in the water. Hunt in the water. When the tide rises, they rise with it. Feeding time.
"There are things in the water!" I shouted. "MOVE! NOW!"
That got everyone moving faster.
We reached the second level as the water was filling the ground floor below.
This level was larger. More open. A circular chamber maybe seventy feet across. The ceiling was high—twenty feet at least. Stone columns supported it, each column covered in breathing flesh.
And in the center of the room: another Anchor Point.
This one was different from the first. Larger. The crystallized essence glowed brighter—deep blue, almost purple at the core.
"Another binding site," Somi observed, analyzing it with her tactical vision. "Same type as below. Same function. But positioned higher."
"Why would there be two so close together?" Lucy asked.
Redundancy, my mask answered. Multiple access points. The Mother wants her children to have many opportunities to bind. To join her. To become hers.
"It's bait," I said. "Multiple Anchors mean multiple chances to corrupt us. More bindings. More power. More dependency."
"But also more survival," Kael pointed out. "Those who bound are strong. Those who didn't..." He gestured at the unbound survivors slumped against walls, barely conscious from exhaustion.
He wasn't wrong.
The unbound looked like they were dying. Grey skin. Sunken eyes. Shaking. The world was draining them rapidly now—nighttime seemed to accelerate the process.
"They need to bind," Somi stated clinically. "Within the next few hours, or they'll be too weak to survive."
"NO!" Maria pushed herself away from the wall. "I won't become one of those THINGS!" She pointed at me, at my black-red veined arm. "Look at you! You're not even human anymore!"
"I'm alive," I countered.
"Are you? Or are you just a puppet wearing Sidd's face?"
That hit harder than I wanted to admit.
Because I didn't know. The mask was in my head constantly. The Anchor Point's essence flowed through my veins. How much of what I thought and felt was still me?
My mask shifted. The devil horns began emerging. My anger making it change.
Lucy grabbed my arm. "Sidd. Breathe. Don't let it control you."
I forced myself calm. The horns receded slowly.
"I'm still me," I said quietly. To Lucy. To Maria. To myself. "Just... different."
While survivors rested, I explored.
The second floor had doorways leading off the main chamber. Four of them. Each sealed with corruption barriers like the entrance below.
My Flesh Sight let me see through them.
Beyond each door: smaller rooms. Storage spaces maybe? Living quarters? Hard to tell through all the corruption.
But one door showed me something interesting.
Light. Not bioluminescence. Different light. Pulsing. Rhythmic.
Another Anchor Point? Or something else?
"I'm checking the side rooms," I told Gery. "Cover me."
"You sure that's smart?"
"No. But I need to know what's in there."
I approached the first doorway. Touched the corruption barrier.
It rippled. Sensed my Anchor binding. Recognized me as part of the Mother's network.
And opened.
The flesh peeled back like lips parting. Creating a passage.
See? the mask purred. You belong here now. The world welcomes you.
"I don't want to belong here."
Too late for that.
I stepped through.
The small chamber beyond was maybe ten feet square. Walls covered in breathing flesh. Floor wet with that organic fluid.
But in the center, floating in the air, was something impossible.
A sphere of crystallized essence. Smaller than an Anchor Point. Different color—translucent, with images swirling inside like a snow globe.
I approached carefully.
The sphere pulsed. Reacted to my presence.
And suddenly, images flooded my vision.
Not the present. The past.
ANCHOR POINT MEMORY - THE PREVIOUS CHALLENGERS
I saw people. Survivors like us. But different clothes. Different equipment. Different era?
They were in this same temple. This same room. Gathered around an Anchor Point.
A woman with red hair was speaking. Leader maybe. "We have no choice. Bind or die. Those are our options."
A man argued back. "We'll lose ourselves! Look at the marks! Look at what it does!"
"Better corrupted than dead."
One by one, they bound. I watched them touch the Anchor Point. Watched the essence flow into them. Watched the marks appear.
Watched them grow stronger.
Then the vision shifted.
Later. Days later? Weeks? They were fighting. In the ruins. Against creatures made of flesh and bone.
They were winning. The Anchor Powers made them strong. Fast. Deadly.
But I saw the cost.
Their marks had spread. Covered more of their bodies. Their eyes had changed. Their movements had become... wrong. Too smooth. Too coordinated.
Like puppets on strings.
Another shift.
The red-haired woman stood before a massive Anchor Point. Much larger than the ones I'd seen. Tier 3? Tier 2?
She was alone. Her group gone. Dead? Abandoned? Unknown.
She touched the Anchor.
And screamed.
The binding was violent. Aggressive. The essence didn't flow—it poured. Into her mouth, her nose, her eyes, her skin.
Her body convulsed. Transformed.
The marks covered everything. Her skin turned grey. Her hair turned white. Her eyes became empty voids.
And then she smiled.
Not her smile. The Mother's smile.
She'd been completely assimilated.
The vision ended.
I stumbled backward, gasping.
The sphere of memories faded. Stopped pulsing.
My mask was practically vibrating with hunger.
Did you see? Did you UNDERSTAND? That's what awaits you. That's what we're becoming. Eventually, inevitably, ALL who bind will become hers.
"No," I said. "No, we'll kill her first. Break free first. We won't—"
They said the same thing. They all say the same thing. But the Mother is patient. The Mother always wins. In the end, you'll all be her children.
I ran from the room.
Burst back into the main chamber where survivors were resting.
Gery stood immediately. "Sidd? What happened? You look—"
"The Anchor Points have memories," I interrupted. "Previous challengers. Previous survivors. They came here. Bound themselves. Got stronger. And then..." I swallowed hard. "They lost. They became part of her. Completely assimilated."
Silence.
Then Somi spoke. "That's the endgame. The Anchor Points are traps. Slow traps. They give power to make us think we're winning. But every binding brings us closer to belonging to her."
"So what do we do?" Lucy asked quietly. "We need the power to survive. But gaining power is what kills us."
"We find a middle path," Kael said. "We bind once, maybe twice. Gain enough power to kill the Mother. Then we stop. Never bind again."
"Can we resist?" someone asked. "The pull to bind more. To get stronger. Can we actually stop?"
I looked at my arm. At the veins. At the marks.
And I felt the hunger. The need. The craving for more power.
Already. After just one binding. I wanted to bind again. Touch that second Anchor Point in the center of the room. Become stronger. Better. More.
"I don't know," I admitted. "The corruption makes you want it. Makes you need it. Stopping might be harder than we think."