The blue screen hung in Rowan's vision, patient and implacable.

  

  PHYSICAL MODIFICATION AVAILABLE

  GENDER EXPRESSION: MALE

  Cost: 1 Nexus Power Point

  Effect: Permanent physiological restructuring to match personal gender expression. Includes comprehensive hormonal, skeletal, and tissue modification.

  [ACCEPT] / [DECLINE]

  Rowan stared at the words, his breath—wherever his breath was—caught somewhere between wonder and confusion. After a youth filled with doctor's visits, hormone blockers, therapy sessions, and the slow, deliberate process of becoming himself, the Nexus—whatever it was exactly—was offering him everything he'd ever wanted.

  For only one power point out of his available eleven.

  One point. That didn’t seem like very much in the grand scheme of things. Did it?

  He could feel the longing in his chest, sharp and immediate. The body he'd always imagined. The one he'd been building toward, testosterone shot by testosterone shot, workout by workout, dollar by dollar saved, year by year. Just...there. Seemingly instantly and completely. Could it really be that easy?

  And yet…

  His metaphoric finger hovered over [ACCEPT].

  Why am I hesitating?

  He'd transitioned socially in high school. Fought for his name, his pronouns, his identity. His family had been supportive—even his crotchety granddad—but it had still been a struggle. Every day was a battle, in small ways and large. Inch by inch, day by day, he'd won those battles to become himself.

  But testosterone had only been part of his life for two years. His body was still changing, still becoming. Somewhere, buried beneath all the certainty and dysphoria and determination, was a small voice that whispered: What if someday I want to carry a child?

  It was ridiculous. He'd never seriously considered it. The thought of pregnancy had always triggered dysphoria so intense it made him nauseous. But the option—the theoretical possibility—had always been there. A door he'd never planned to open but hadn't quite closed.

  I’ve got so little information about what’s happening. This could close it. Forever.

  Rowan pulled back from the screen, his awareness expanding slightly. Where was he? Still being carried? He could feel motion, jostling, the sensation of being bound. The monsters were still taking him and Sam somewhere.

  Sam.

  The thought of his friend cut through his spiralling thoughts like a knife. Sam was unconscious. Maybe dying. They were both prisoners of nightmare creatures in an impossible place, and Rowan was agonizing over a choice he didn't have time to make.

  Priorities, Rowan. Survive first. Unpack your feelings later.

  If they lived through this, he could worry about this choice when he wasn't tied to a pole being carried through an alien jungle by monsters. If he survived this, he'd have time to think, to process, to be sure. If he didn't first live through this, it wouldn't matter. He was who he was. Rowan focused on [DECLINE], and the screen vanished.

  He returned to scrolling through the menu options that had presented him with the Gender Expression option to begin with, as he mentally navigated the Status Screen. Powers, abilities, defenses, skills. The interface was overwhelming, like trying to learn a new video game while someone held a gun to his head. Rowan had usually preferred playing music or reading a good book over sinking his downtime into video games.

  Okay. Eleven power points to spend. Prioritize. What do I need to survive?

  He started with the basics. Physical enhancements first—the kind of thing that would keep him alive in a fight or in an alien jungle. Without guidance, he started making choices mostly on context and vibes.

  

  +1 MIGHT (2 PP)

  +1 STAMINA (2 PP)

  +1 AWARENESS (2 PP)

  Then defenses. If he was going to try escaping, he needed to not die immediately.

  

  +1 DODGE (1 PP)

  +1 FORTITUDE (1 PP)

  That left three points. Rowan scrolled through the powers section, looking for anything that might help. A lot of what he saw seemed to be locked behind prerequisites or were beyond his budget of remaining points. Offensive abilities? He wasn't a fighter. Defensive powers? Maybe, but—

  His eyes caught on something that made him pause.

  

  Compatible Affinity Detected: FLORA CONTROL — Rank 1 (1 PP) — Command plants within 60 feet to grow and move under mental direction. Works on living and dead plant matter.

  This entire impossible place was one massive jungle. Branches. Dead plant matter. That seemed like something he could work with.

  Yes.

  The power just felt right to Rowan, in the same way his name had when he changed it. He selected it, then kept scrolling. Two more points. Something to keep him alive.

  

  ACCELERATED HEALING — Rank 1 (1 PP) — Recover from injuries at an enhanced rate. Minor wounds heal in minutes, moderate wounds in hours.

  Perfect. That left one point. Rowan hesitated, then found something in the Advantages section that caught his eye.

  

  IMPROVISED TOOLS — Rank 1 (1 PP) — Gain intuitive understanding of how to use environmental objects as tools or weapons.

  It wasn't flashy, but in a jungle with no equipment? It could be the difference between life and death. Rowan confirmed his selections.

  

  INTEGRATE PURCHASED ABILITIES?

  WARNING: This process may cause significant discomfort.

  [YES] / [NO]

  He focused on [YES].

  Pain exploded through his body.

  It wasn't like the first integration—that had been overwhelming, alien, like his entire nervous system was being rewritten. This was more focused, but no less intense. His muscles burned as Might flooded into them with strength, restructuring tissue and bone. His lungs seized as Stamina rewrote his cardiovascular system. Something behind his eyes shifted as Awareness sharpened his senses to a briefly disorienting degree.

  Then his powers began to truly awaken. Flora Control slithered into his consciousness like roots burrowing through soil. Suddenly, he could feel them—every tree, every vine, every scrap of dead wood within sixty feet. They sang to him, waiting for his command. Accelerated Healing was a pulse of warmth that spread through his injuries, knitting torn flesh and easing bruises. Not instant, but still impossibly fast. Rowan bucked and screamed, unable to stop himself. The monsters carrying him made startled sounds, but didn't stop. They didn't seem to understand what was happening—just that their prisoner was having some kind of fit.

  Then, as suddenly as it started, the pain stopped. Rowan gasped, his vision clearing. The Status Screen had vanished, replaced by reality.

  He was in a cage.

  The realization hit him like cold water. Wooden bars, lashed together with vines, formed a crude prison barely large enough for him to sit upright. His hands were still bound behind his back, wrists tied with rough cordage. His ankles were lashed together. Through the bars, he could see an encampment—crude structures, more cages, dozens of the monsters moving with purposeful coordination. In a cage a few feet away, slumped against the bars like a broken doll, was Sam.

  "Sam!" Rowan hissed, keeping his voice low with an effort. "Sam, can you hear me?"

  No response. Sam's head was lolled forward, dark hair matted with dried blood. His scrubs were torn and filthy. He wasn't moving.

  Please don't be dead. Please don't be dead.

  Rowan focused on his Flora Control, reaching out to the vines binding his wrists. Loosen. Release. He thought the commands on instinct and hoped he had the right idea. The vines twitched, then began to move. It was slower than he'd hoped—the vines were dead, not living, which he sensed made them harder to control. But they did still move. Bit by bit, his bindings loosened.

  Around him, the camp buzzed with activity. The raptor-creatures prowled the perimeter. The massive boar-things stood guard. Near the center of the crude village, beside a blood-stained table with iron restraints, three creatures with goat heads and glowing, gnarled, long sticks—staffs? staves?—were preparing something.

  No. Preparing someone.

  Two of the boar-things dragged a prisoner from one of the larger cages—a person Rowan didn't recognize, wearing strange clothes. They strapped the prisoner to the table. The prisoner screamed, thrashing, begging in a language Rowan couldn't understand.

  The goat-creatures began to chant. Green light flowed from their long sticks into the prisoner's body. Rowan watched, horrified, as the prisoner's flesh began to shift and change. Arms lengthening. Fur sprouting. Face reshaping into something bestial.

  Rowan looked away, bile rising in his throat. That was what they were going to do to him. To Sam. Turn them into monsters.

  Not if I have anything to say about it.

  The vines around his wrists finally came free. Slowly—trying not to be noticed—Rowan brought his hands forward, flexing his fingers. Flora Control instinctively painted a three-dimensional map in his mind of every plant within sixty feet: the cage bars of mostly wood, the vines used as binding, the massive trees surrounding the camp, even the gnarled staff one of the goat-creatures carried.

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  He had power now. Not much, but maybe enough. A desperate plan taking shape in his mind, Rowan reached for the wooden bars at the back of his cage and commanded them to warp.

  ***

  The first group of Raptor-Hounds came at them fast—four of the creatures bursting from the undergrowth in a coordinated ambush. Zoe's Air Sense picked them up a split second before they attacked, just enough warning to get Gale up and ready.

  "Contact!" Zoe barked, just like they’d practiced.

  Pablo and Sasha reacted instantly, weapons already out as they fell into formation. No discussion needed. They'd drilled this too. Sasha stepped forward, Bedrock ready, while Pablo and Zoe both balanced on the balls of their feet in anticipation.

  "Come get some!" Sasha’s Aetheric Challenge pulsed out from her with a burst of silvery white radiance.

  The Raptor-Hounds' heads snapped toward Sasha in unison, their predatory focus locked onto her like she'd just painted a target on her chest and covered herself in juicy steaks. They charged, ignoring Zoe and Pablo entirely.

  "She got them hooked. Flanking positions," Pablo said, already moving right.

  Zoe went left, Gale ready. The Raptor-Hounds hit Sasha like a wave, claws and teeth seeking flesh. But Sasha was ready for them. Rock flowed up around her body in overlapping plates, her Ablative Rock Armor forming from the abundant stone in the jungle soil. Claws and teeth mostly scraped against rock. The little damage they managed to inflict was mostly superficial when one considered Sasha’s Accelerated Healing at Rank 3 was one of the best on the team.

  Sasha planted her feet, and suddenly she was immovable. Mountain Stance, Zoe recognized. The Raptor-Hounds tried to drive her back, to overwhelm her through sheer force, but Sasha didn't budge. She was a stone pillar in their path, and with Mountain Stance active, every attack that struck her only made Sasha stronger. When Sasha finally hit back with her hammer, the enhanced blow sent a Raptor-Hound flying back limply through the air, its Health bar emptied from the single strike. The attack only served to settle the frenzied aggression of their opponents on Sasha.

  This left their flanks wide open to Zoe and Pablo. Zoe came in fast, using a burst of wind to accelerate her approach. Gale flashed, the curved blade opening a Raptor-Hound's throat in a spray of dark blood. The creature went down with a wet, sucking hiss. On the opposite flank, Pablo drove Razor through another Raptor-Hound's ribs, the blade punching through fur and bone with surgical precision before he ripped it free.

  The remaining creature registered the overwhelming assault, but Sasha's challenge held it from retreating. It couldn't disengage, couldn't retreat. Its entire focus was on her. Bedrock came down like a meteor and pulverized the Raptor-Hound's skull.

  Four down in less than thirty seconds of combat.

  "That was clean," Pablo said, breathing only slightly harder than normal.

  "Tank and spank," Sasha grinned, her rock armor already beginning to flake away as she released the energy flow sustaining them. "Old school."

  Zoe dismissed the notification about loot—the others could collect it for her—she was scanning for the path ahead and saw that it had vanished entirely. Turned about in the fight, she wasn’t even sure which way they’d come from. Zoe turned her attention to the canopy above them. "I'm going up. Get our bearings."

  "Be careful," Pablo warned.

  Zoe formed a column of compressed air beneath her feet and launched upward. The jungle canopy was thick, but with enough force she could—

  Vines exploded into motion around her. They came from everywhere at once, whipping through the air like serpents. Zoe twisted, dodging one, then another, but there were too many. A thick vine wrapped around her ankle and yanked, arresting her upward momentum and swinging her sideways into a tree trunk. The impact drove the air from her lungs. More vines wrapped around her arms, her torso, pulling her in multiple directions. Below, she heard Pablo and Sasha shouting.

  Cut. Cut. Cut!

  Zoe wrenched Gale up, the blade flashing as she hacked at the vine around her waist and then stooped to cut at her ankle. Blurring with the motion, she sliced free of the others. The vines parted with a spray of clear, smelly sap, and suddenly she was falling. She managed to slow herself with a burst of wind, but still hit the jungle floor hard enough to rattle her teeth.

  "You okay?" Sasha was there immediately, Bedrock raised and ready to smash any vine that came close.

  "Yeah," Zoe groaned, climbing to her feet. "Jungle doesn't want us going up, apparently."

  "Noted," Pablo said. "We stay on the ground."

  They pressed forward, following the trail they thought Eden had followed and Pablo's HUD map—though the map kept fuzzing out, updating only when they had line of sight to the terrain in question. The jungle shifted around them, paths appearing and disappearing, but they did their best to adapt. At one point, they even ended up back on the obsidian beach, although they didn’t think it was the same stretch of shoreline they’d started from.

  Plunging back into the jungle, more encounters with the dungeon’s creatures came at them. Another group of Raptor-Hounds, followed by a pair of Boar-Men that hit like freight trains but fell to their coordinated tactics. Each fight followed the same rhythm—Sasha challenged and tanked, Pablo and Zoe exploited the openings.

  Zoe didn’t miss the toll their tactics were taking. Sasha's rock armor absorbed most of the damage, but not all of it. The power was nowhere near as good as her Paladin Armor that it was intended to supplement. Maybe with a few more ranks, but not yet. A Boar-Man's club got through and caught her in the ribs. A Raptor-Hound's claws found a gap in her defenses and raked across her thigh. After each fight, Pablo would press his glowing hands to Sasha's injuries, his Lay on Hands knitting flesh and bone.

  "I'm fine," Sasha insisted after the third time. “Save the aether.”

  "You got hit," Pablo said, his jaw tight. “You’re bleeding

  "That's my job. Tank, remember?"

  "Your job isn't to get hurt."

  "It literally is, Pabs." Sasha's tone was light, but Zoe could see the strain around her eyes. "I'm built for it. You worry too much. I’ll regen on my own."

  Pablo didn't respond, but his expression said everything. This wasn't a game where hit points were just abstract numbers. This was real flesh, real pain, real risk. Zoe caught Sasha's eye as Pablo turned away. Sasha gave her a small, tight smile that didn't reach her eyes.

  She's hurting more than she's letting on, Zoe realized. And she knows Pablo knows. But neither of them is going to say anything because we need this to work.

  They stopped to rest after an hour, taking cover in a small clearing where Pablo could focus on healing, and they could let their aetheric reserves recharge. Zoe kept watch while Sasha sat with her back against a tree, eyes closed, breathing carefully.

  "This would be easier with Warren," Pablo said, breaking the silence.

  Zoe's jaw tightened. "Yeah, well, Warren's not here."

  "I know." Pablo's tone was carefully neutral, but Zoe heard the frustration underneath. "I just mean—his fire would let us clear obstacles faster. Cut through this jungle instead of going around it."

  "He's in the city," Zoe said flatly. "Working his stupid valet job."

  "If he's even doing that." Pablo's voice dropped. "After the Embarcadero thing—"

  "Don't," Zoe interrupted. "I don't want to argue about Warren right now."

  Pablo fell silent, but his expression said plenty. He thought Warren wasn't taking their responsibilities seriously. Thought he was being reckless. And honestly? Zoe agreed, but he was still her little brother, and defending him was instinct even when she was furious with him.

  They moved on after twenty minutes. Pablo reported that his Lay on Hands power had ranked up during one of the healing sessions. He seemed pleased, though he kept the report matter-of-fact. They’d all been working on grinding up their skills and powers over the last four months. The easiest way to improve a stat was spending Power Points on them, but those generally came from surviving deadly situations recognized by the system. Safe training and practice were a much slower grind.

  Their next major encounter came an hour later. Three Raptor-Hounds and a Boar-Man, standard formation. But behind them, partially concealed by the undergrowth, was something new. A creature with a goat's head and a glowing staff.

  "New baddie," Pablo called. "Looks like one of the Goat casters in the back."

  "I see it," Zoe confirmed.

  Sasha stepped forward, already activating her challenge. The goat-creature—Goat-Shaman, Zoe’s Inspect labeled it—raised its staff. Green light gathered at the tip, coalescing into a roiling sphere of toxic energy. It released the sphere forward, and where it touched the ground, a cloud of sickly green mist began to spread.

  Don’t like the look of that at all! Zoe thrust her hand forward and pushed. Wind roared through the jungle, slamming into the toxic cloud and dispersing it before it could fully form. The mist scattered, harmless. The Goat-Shaman bleated in surprise.

  "I’ve got the caster!" Zoe shouted. “You two handle the others.”

  Sasha charged, drawing the melee fighters' attention with her Aetheric Challenge. Pablo moved to the flank, but Zoe launched herself into the air. She skimmed just below the branches and just over the heads of the engaged melee fighters.

  The Goat-Shaman was fast—faster than she expected. It raised its staff defensively, green light flaring, but Zoe was already dropping to the ground inside its guard. Gale flashed once, twice, three times in rapid succession. The curved blade opened the creature's throat, then its chest, then drove through its skull. The Goat-Shaman collapsed, its staff clattering to the jungle floor.

  "Nice," Pablo called from where he and Sasha were finishing off the melee fighters.

  Zoe nodded, breathing hard. The rush of combat still sang in her veins, but she forced herself to stay focused. This was about survival, not fun.

  They collected the loot—more tonics, a staff that none of them could use, some crudely crafted items—and pressed on. The jungle grew denser as they moved inland. The paths twisted and reformed constantly. Finally, Pablo made a decision.

  "We're blazing our own trail," he said. "Sasha, can you raise us a path?"

  "Yeah." Sasha pressed her hands to the ground, and stone rippled up through the sand beneath their feet. A raised walkway formed, smooth and solid, cutting straight through the undergrowth. "This'll drain my reserves faster, though."

  "We'll manage. I’ll clear the vegetation. Zoe, keep an eye out."

  They fell into a new rhythm. Sasha raised stone from the island’s bedrock, creating a solid path that didn't shift or disappear. Pablo hacked at the massive fleshy ferns and vines with Razor, cutting a corridor. Zoe used wind to blow debris aside, keeping their line of advance clear while also keeping a wary eye out for the next surprise.

  It was exhausting work. They had to stop frequently to let Sasha's reserves recharge, to heal the small injuries that accumulated from thorns and sharp-edged leaves. However, they began making genuine progress for the first time since entering the damn jungle.

  "Getting close," Sasha said after an hour. "I can feel the volcano through the ground. Huge energy signature, maybe two miles ahead."

  "How are your AEE reserves?" Pablo asked.

  "Low, but manageable."

  Finally, after more than three hours of fighting and trail-blazing through hostile jungle, they saw it: the edge of a large clearing and beyond the rising slope of a rocky mountain. Zoe's Air Sense picked up multiple contacts, at least a dozen distinct signatures moving in coordinated patterns.

  "That's gotta be it," Pablo said quietly. "The encampment."

  They approached cautiously, weapons ready. Behind a clump of bioluminescent leaves, they found Eden. She looked exhausted—torn clothes, blood on her arms, dark circles under her eyes. Yet, her grip on Tidal was steady.

  "About time," Eden whispered, relief flooding her features. "I was starting to think—"

  "We're here," Sasha interrupted gently. "What's the situation?"

  Eden quickly filled them in. More transformations had happened while she waited for them. The prisoner count was down to nine. The shamans were working in no particular order, selecting victims at random. Rowan or Sam could be taken at any moment.

  "We need to move now," Eden said urgently. "Every minute we wait—"

  A cry of alarm erupted from the encampment. All four of them froze for a beat before whirling toward the sound. Through the gaps in the vegetation, Zoe could see the camp descending into chaos. Monsters were shouting, moving toward something near the cages. And at the center of the disturbance—

  Vines writhing and growing, wrapping around the bloody table where a transformation ritual was in progress. The prisoner on the table was convulsing, half-transformed, their screams cutting off in a wet gurgle. Near one of the individual cages, a figure—bonde hair and filthy flannel shirt—was working frantically at the bars of another cage.

  "Is that—" Sasha started.

  "Rowan," Eden breathed. "He's trying to escape."

  "He just blew our element of surprise." Pablo's hand tightened on Razor.

  “We’ve got to help.” Eden took a half step toward the open air of the clearing.

  “Of course, we just—” Pablo began.

  "We're out of time for careful plans, Pabs," Zoe said.

  “Right. Of course.” Pablo drew in a deep breath, and a grim but determined expression settled over his face. Then he started giving orders. "I guess we’re doing this the loud way. Zoe, armor up, grab Eden, and fly down there to help Rowan. Free as many prisoners as you can and get them into the jungle. Sasha and I will buy you time."

  “Across the Stars Unyielding. Shields Against the Void Beyond.” Zoe hurriedly pronounced the words to summon her armor. Even as the glistening white and gold plates slid into place all over her, she was thinking, Damn it, Warren, where are you?