Somewhere in San Francisco, specifically the bedroom of Buffy Summers. Willow Rosenberg is fiddling through the clothes rack, searching for something to wear for a job interview with Theo Daniels, multi-millionaire, tech genius. She’s not that confident.

“He’s only giving me the interview because you saved his life.”

Buffy has taken the last jacket Willow tried, a teal blue number, and is preparing to pick something herself. She also thinks Willow is wrong.

“Willow. You’re more than qualified for a job in software. If you turn this down because…”

Willow quickly responds. “Oh, I’m much too desperate to turn it down. I just don’t want to be disappointed if it’s only a courtesy meeting.”

Buffy walks over to her friend, keeping the teal jacket away from her like it’s an offensive item. “You made it past the first three interviews before I even heard Theo Daniels had a new start up! Me knowing him just let’s you cut to the chase. He’s impressed by your skills, okay? You’re awesome. Use it.”

Willow points out that Daniels offered her a job too. Which she adds must be much better than the Doublemeat Palace, but Buffy, sitting at her mirror, reminds her friend that she’s planning on Slaying full time – which isn’t exactly lucrative.

Willow points out that Spike has been working for Dowling, which is also an avenue Buffy could try, but Buffy dismisses her.

“I could. I have. But the work’s spotty. Spike doesn’t have to buy groceries and his wardrobe hasn’t changed since 1974. It’s fine. I chose the freelancer’s life. I knew it would be a challenge. It’s the other stuff I wasn’t banking on. Are they still here?”

Willow edges to the bedroom door and opens it a crack, just enough to look out into the main sitting area of the apartment.

In the centre of the room, is a leprechaun, something that Willow knows shouldn’t be real. He’s drinking a bottle of something. He’s clearly half cut. There’s an angry waving cat behind him, one that looks exactly like those waving ornament thingies, but this one’s life size and real. And as noted, angry. And then, closest to her, being tended to by an anxious Dawn, stands a man made completely out of green slime. Apart from a watch on his gloopy wrist. Oh, and his name is Cedric.

She comes back into the bedroom, closes the door. Buffy is ready – until Willow pulls a look on her face, inhales and then exhales quickly.

“The leprechaun’s drunk. At eight a.m. He’s annoyed the Lucky Cat into a murderous rage. And Dawn’s running out of pots and pans to put under Cedric the Slime Man.”

Buffy speaks, but doesn’t move. “We should really go out there. Ugh. Monsters, okay, but I never thought I’d have to deal with lobbyists. Does this annoy you as much as it does me?”

Willow looks now, all jokes gone from her tone. “Can I be honest? It terrifies me. We’re overseeing the writing of the new rules of magic. Arbitrating conflicting agendas. Making decisions that could stand for eons. If I mess this up, I ruined magic.”

Buffy rolls her eyes. “Which you spent the past year giving me crap for doing. Thanks, that delicious morsel of irony makes me feel better.”

Willow smiles and looks back at her. “Glad to help. Also, I hate you.”

Buffy recognises her friend’s doubts and tells her she shares them. But she knows she can do this. She places both hands on Willow’s shoulders. “Will, no one is more qualified than you to do this. Between you and Giles, you know all the rules of old magic – what worked and what didn’t. But more importantly, you’re a good person. And smart. And there’s no one I would rather trust this to than you. But hey, guess what? You’re not doing it alone.”

There’s a sharp hiss in the room, and the air literally parts for a moment, as a blue lightning bolt flashes in the centre of the room and D’Hoffryn, casually, walks through it, talking like he’s heard the half of the conversation he wasn’t in the room for.

“Indeed you are not. You have my advice and that of the entire Mystic Council. However, if you do not see your supplicants soon, I shall be forced to resort to arbitration by means of your ‘magic eight ball,’ which oddly, seems to have no magic in it whatsoever.”

Buffy turns away from him and grins. Her joke worked. She also tells him to cool his jets – she wants to know what he knows or has found out about the Soul Glutton. Has there been any sign?

“No, nor the Mistress young Mr. Harris faced. These are powerful demons: their mystic defences are strong. I shall require your assistance… or rather, the book’s.”

Willow is checking her hair in the mirror, looking at D’Hoffryn through her reflection. “What, you mean to weaken their protection spells? Or increase the power of your tracking spells?”

D’Hoffryn nods and looks at Buffy. He knows who he needs to convince. “Nature would likely compensate to restore the balance. We must be creative… perhaps formalising the oversight powers of the head of the Council. Enable whoever holds that office to overcome certain protections.”

Buffy nods, but it’s clear her head is elsewhere. She doesn’t want to deal with the applications in front of her. She opens the bedroom door and strolls out, assuring D’Hoffryn that in about five seconds, she’s going to be fed up of proposed rule changes.

And for the next four hours, Buffy sits and listens. To the drunk leprechaun who wants it written that his Pot of Gold can’t be stolen. To the gloopy Cedric, who wants things done on his time. To the Angry Cat, who’s annoyed by the stereotype. Countless applications for new rules, all of which will change everything globally.

By the time the early afternoon has come by, Buffy is tired and cranky. She’s listened and negotiated. She’s haggled and debated. She looks at the clock and is told by D’Hoffryn, finally, that there is only one more.

And then Vicki the Vampire walks into Buffy’s apartment, bold as brass.

Buffy gets up, angry and suddenly not so tired. All day of talking, she’s ready to hit something. “You have got to be kidding me! You think you can just sashay in here after trying to kill us all?”

“Saved your narrow ass too, once or twice. I’m here if you want to parley, but if you want to do it the fun way…”

Buffy’s on her feet, looking for a weapon, as Willow stops her. Whispers in her ear.

“Wait. She’s here as a representative of the new breed of vampires. We invited them, remember?”

Buffy whispers back, holding her temper, unsuccessfully. “I didn’t know it would be her. There’s got to be a better spokesperson for an entire species.”

“OH MY GOD!” A high pitch squeal pierces the air. Everyone in the room flinches.

“Look at you! All grown up!” And then, another excitable cry.

Buffy takes one look at the newcomers walking into the room, and puts her head in her hands, sighing loudly. “I no longer judge the leprechaun’s drinking.”

The newcomer is Harmony Kendall, former classmate and current vampire celebrity. As ever, she’s being trailed by her assistant, former Sunnydale resident, Clem.

She bounds over to Willow and Buffy, gives them faux kisses on both cheeks, all the while talking non-stop, louder than necessary.

“I know, I look exactly as I did in high school. Perk of immortality. None of the crow’s-feet or cellulite some people have to deal with.” She kisses Willow on the cheek for a third time. “Not you, of course.”

Clem smiles at Buffy as he enters. “Hey girl, how are you?” Buffy extends her arms and pulls the demon into a hug. “Come here, Clem. It’s almost worth having Harmony here to see you.”

Harmony automatically heads into the centre of the room, everyone else gathered around her. Her voice is still screechy, but, thankfully, she’s quick to the point. “So, conflict between your people and mine. I’m here to resolve it non-violently. I’m all about the peace. Like Gumby.”

Clem whispers in her ear. “Gandhi”. She doesn’t lose her stride. “That’s what I said.”

Vicki already has issues, and, temper already frayed, moves towards Buffy, threatening and accusatory tone in her voice, finger pointing viciously at the Slayer. “You’re going to try to use that damn book to take away our new powers. You got no right.”

Buffy doesn’t even try to hide her rage. Willow sighs again. “Really? Because last time I checked, making it harder for vampires to kill people is kind of my job.”

And then Harmony, of all people, separates them. Willow is astounded. Harmony? The voice of reason? “Ladies! Ladies!”

She turns to them both, big smile on her face, moving her hands about, almost as loudly as her volume. “As usual, I’ve fixed everything. Vicki and her associates will agree to abide my my rules. No killing humans, or siring them, only drinking their blood in moderation, with consent.”

Buffy looks at Vicki, distrust in her face and in her stance. “And we’re just supposed to trust them? Shape-changing, walking in sunlight. They’re too powerful.”

Vicki folds her arms and sneers, as if Buffy has just proved everything she’s been saying. “And there it is. Can’t give a vampire too much power. Life-ist.”

Harmony has a suggestion, and doesn’t wait for anyone to stop before she offers it. She suggests that since they cannot remove the new vampire’s transformation abilities, they could edit them. Willow tells her to keep talking.

So Harmony reveals her plan. “So, one tweak only. The new vampires can walk in daylight, but they lose their powers in it. Not too big a change, consistent with that crappy Stoker novel. Low risk, high reward.”

Vicki doesn’t like it. Buffy doesn’t think it’s enough. D’Hoffryn, silent until now, decides, without asking, to venture his opinion. “A compromise no one is fully happy with. The essence of politics. The question is, can both sides live with it?”

Willow looks at him, but agrees somewhat. “I gotta say, I don’t love it. But it makes the most sense of anything I’ve heard.”

Glaring at each other for a moment, Buffy and Vicki just look into each other’s eyes. They both know that at some point they’re going to fight. But for now, they both grit their teeth, look away from each other and both shake hands, speaking at the same time. “Fine.”

At the sight of the hand shaking, Harmony gets even more ecstatic, bouncing on the spot. “Yay me!” Clem instantly compliments her: “You were amazing.”

Buffy can take no more. Fighting the urge to yell, she clenches her fists and turns her back on everyone, walking to the safety of her couch. “Can everyone get out of my house, please?”

D’Hoffryn threatens to come back later and vanishes the same way he arrived. Vicki makes a quip about how she has to use the door now since the sun’s up and she can’t turn into a bat in it now. Clem, at least, waves. Harmony was gone instantly.

Buffy collapses onto her armchair, loudly declaring she wants to sleep. But Dawn approaches from the stairs, smile on her face. She shakes her head at Buffy’s nap suggestion.

“No. I’m your sister. I know what you need. What we all need.”

As Dawn grins at her, Buffy sighs. “They don’t make enough Nutella, or Hemsworth brothers.”

And then Dawn, unable to contain her excitement any more, bounds over to Buffy – brandishing a trio of tickets in her hands. She pulls a brochure out and hands it to Buffy, almost bouncing on the spot as much as Harmony was. “A day at the spa. All three of us. Head to toe.”

Buffy sits up immediately. “Get out! We can’t afford this!”

Willow sidles up to her now. “Theo Daniels can. He said to surprise you. Surprise!”

Buffy seems excited for a minute. It sounds too good to be true. And then she thinks back to her anger at Vicki, which she can’t explain. It makes her angry with herself. And thus, she finds a reason to stop herself, once again, from having fun. “I don’t know. I didn’t like the way Vicki was eyeing the book.”

Willow tells her that she’s just finding excuses now. Xander and Spike can watch the book and there are new wards all over the building. Any new type vamps get near it and they become crispy.

Dawn has her hands together, reminding Buffy of her younger years. The pleading, the begging, the annoying squealing. “Come on. Buffy! You’ve been taking beatings since you were a sophomore! Can’t you give yourself one day off?”

Unable to handle anymore, Buffy gets up and walks away. Dawn panics that she’s pushed too far. Buffy is quiet for a moment and then picks something up from her table. “You know what? You’re right,” she says, her back to them.

Then she turns around, puts her shades on her face and smiles. “Ladies… let’s do this.”

The three women instantly start prepping, making plans and discussing spa treatments. They don’t see or hear the figure in the shadows, the one that’s watching them. The voice is tinged with threat.

“That’s right. Leave. Nothing to see here… Idiots.”

Across the hall in the boy’s apartment, Xander has an appointment with his counsellor. He compares it as getting in touch with his inner child, to which Spike just looks around at the action figures and comic books. Xander asks if Spike will be okay, and he nods. He has a table full of documents in front of him, all in brown files, all marked ‘confidential’, Xander thinks it makes Spike feel important, and it suits the vampire – not that he’d ever tell him.

“Got case files to look over for supernatural crimes. I’d say don’t let that shrink make an idiot out of you, but that ship’s clearly sailed.”

Xander turns, a grin on his face. “There’s a term in psychotherapy: ‘Eat my shorts!’” He waves as he goes and closes the door behind him. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

Time passes. Spike gets intrigued by the cases in front of him. He’s satisfied with some of his findings and is eager to share them. He surprises himself with how engrossed he becomes, and doesn’t notice time ticking away. He smiles when he realises that he’s actually enjoying himself. And then there’s a knock on the door, and he’s irritated.

“Bloody Hell, I’m going to make you wear your key chain around your neck.”

He opens the door in complete horror. Harmony is standing there, with Clem. “Ooh, naughty. Very fifty shades.”

Clem waves from behind her, his ears flopping widely. “Hey, Spike! You look great! Doing something different with your hair?”

He stands there in shock for a moment, until Harmony asks to be invited in. Spike opens the door, apologising. Says he wasn’t expecting Harmony to mingle with the common folk. As Harmony strides past him as if she owns the place, Spike asks Clem how he is, and Clem gives him a welcoming smile. He’s still living life, he says, still learning and growing.

Harmony is now in the centre of the living area, looking around with a look of disapproval on her face. “Well. This is tacky. You know, they make other stores, besides Ikea.”

Spike looks at Clem for a moment, needing to talk, get something off his chest. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and looks at the demon. He then looks straight at Harmony.

“I’m actually glad you came by, Harm. Wanted to chat to you about, the, um, last time we saw each other.” He gives Clem a nudging look. “Clem, you may want to give us a moment, this is…”

“About how you two hooked up in London? She told me. I’m her official biographer. Got all the details.”

Spike sighs and looks down at the floor for a minute. “I see. Well, all the more awkward then. Look, I really just want to apologise if I acted the cad, you know? I was in an odd place, trying too hard to prove I still had my mojo, and you know how I get around Angel…”

Harmony doesn’t let him finish. She laughs in this face. “Oh! Oh, that is adorable! I was the one using you, baby boy.”

Spike looks confused. Uses humour as his defence. “Have you been confusing Penthouse Forum with a self-help book again?”

Harmony looks at him and explains. “It was an important part of my personal growth. Go back to the guy who always took me for granted and use him like he always used me. Prove to myself I’m the one in a position of power now. And I was definitely in the position that night, if you know what I…”

Spike stops her, puts his hands up. “Right. Not necessary. Point made. Thank you.”

He moves towards the fridge, wanting a beer to celebrate. “Well, I suppose that’s sorted then. I really do feel badly at how I behaved toward you… not just that time, all of it…”

Harmony is behind him, not looking at him, not caring. “Apology accepted.” Spike carries on talking, telling her how proud he is that she’s grown, impressed at her anti-killing rules. For the first time in his life, he’s genuine about how much it means to him that she understands.

He turns to Clem and continues. Clem shuffles backwards, nervous for a moment. “I’ve got to admit, Clem. I always thought your fortune cookie platitudes were a bit naff, but the proof’s in the pudding. Anyone can grow and improve. Become a new, better person…”

And then the reason for Clem’s nerves become apparent as Spike is knocked unconscious to the floor, courtesy of Harmony, in the dining area, with an iron poker.

Clem looks down at his friend, a worried and concerned look on his face. “Did you have to do it so hard?”

Harmony doesn’t care, makes a joke. “That’s what he said.” She’s rummaging now, through cupboards, drawers, shelves. “Relax. He’ll be fine. That stupid book, ugh. I hate books. All those words.”

Clem sees the Vampyr book, lying obviously on the table in front of her. He picks it up, pretends that she found it. “I think it’s this one.”

“Great!” she declares, dropping another book where it lands. “Now let’s get started remaking the world in my image. Oooh, that just sounds right, doesn’t it? Where to start…”

“I was going to get rid of all the ugly people, but if no one’s ugly, how will anyone know I’m pretty? Hmmm… I’m really going to have to think this through. Put in the time and effort to get it right.”

She steps over Spike and starts to pace back and forth. Then she yells loudly and motions to Clem.

“Got it! Write this down, Clem.” She clears her throat and tries to sound important, her every word a theatrical flourish. “Everyone loves me. Gotta start there! And everybody does what I say. And unicorns are totally real, and anyone who talks smack about me turns into a wart-covered slimy toad.”

She sees Clem write in the book and grins. She snaps herself to full height with such excitement, her face slips into vampire mode. “This is great!” she yells. “I’m in the zone now! I’m going to fix everything!”

Elsewhere, at the exclusive Pamper-U Day Spa, Buffy, Dawn and Willow are partaking in a treatment. They’re sitting on loungers, robes on, masks on their faces and cucumbers on their eyes. Willow is meditating, drink in hand.

Dawn is calm and relaxed. And then, just as silence settles in the room, Buffy asks about Xander. Dawn’s reaction is immediate. “No talking about boys. This is a Bechdel test-approved spa day.”

Buffy takes the cucumber off her eyes, reaches forward to look at Dawn’s face. Her sister doesn’t move. “I’m worried about my sister. I mean, I get it, you need time to rebuild feelings you had for him that got magicked away. Time and space. But he’s such a great guy, and he cares about you, so much. He’d do anything for you. And you seem really happy when you’re with him.”

Dawn still hasn’t moved. Buffy leans back again. “I’m just worried that if you take too long, by the time you realise you do want to be with him, he’ll have moved on.”

There’s silence for a moment and, in a tone that suggests to Buffy she had better be quiet, Dawn calmly speaks. “You do realise that everything you just said could apply to you and Spike. Or you and Angel. Or you and Dowling.”

Buffy puts the cucumber back on her eyes and leans back. “Respect the Bechdel test.”

She doesn’t speak for another hour.

She stops, leans at Clem, looks down at Spike and shrugs. “I think that’s all the important stuff. All the magic crap will work itself out. Did you write all that down, Clem? Every word I said, exactly as I said it?”

Clem stops. Puts the pen down. He looks sheepishly at the vampire. “Uh, Harmony… We should talk.”

She turns to him, anger rising. Clem holds onto the book, closed now in his arms. “Wait a minute. Did you write down that I love you?”

Clem is horrified that she would think that of him! “What? No! I would never do that!”

“You better not!” she snarls. “Because it’s one thing when I do it, but when someone else does it to me, it’s just eww.”

Clem looks at her for a moment, tries to coax another reason out of her. “And it wouldn’t be right. Forcing people to love you isn’t true love at all.”

But Harmony dismisses his concerns. “Okay. Good. Now read all that back to me. I want to make sure you got the part where everyone loves me right.” She’s so busy wondering about the rules that she doesn’t see Spike get up and approach her from behind.

“And that’ll be quite enough of that.” He reaches past her quickly and takes the book from Clem.

Harmony chuckles in his face. “Oh yeah? Well, you’re too late, Mr. Big Stuff! Clem already wrote everything! The world is mine to command! And I command you to kiss my ass!”

She turns, bends over and points at her posterior. When he doesn’t move, she turns to look at Spike, who’s standing there, grin plastered on his face. Then, Harmony turns to Clem, who’s managed to put at least three chairs and the dining table between them.

“Clem? Why isn’t he kissing my ass?”

Spike chuckles and then opens the book wide. The pages are blank. “Because he didn’t write anything. That’s why we’re mates. Clem might have questionable taste in women, but he’s at least got a whit of sense.”

Harmony looks at Clem, crying. She’s devastated. “Clem, how could you? I thought you were totally, hopelessly devoted to me!”

Clem makes sure that she looks at him as he speaks with quiet affection. “I am! That’s why I couldn’t write that stuff, Harmony. The book has a Monkey’s Paw quality. It wouldn’t have come out right. You might even have gotten hurt.”

He moves now, so that she’s facing him directly.

“But more importantly, it wouldn’t be real. It wouldn’t be true. And you deserve a love that’s real and true. You shouldn’t need to force anyone to love you, Harmony. People should love you because of who you are. The wonderful, amazing unique, you. I’ve devoted my life to making sure the world loves you like I do. It won’t be as fast, or easy, but it’ll be honest, and anything worth having has to be earned honestly. The way I still hope to earn your love, someday.”

Spike smiles. It’s one of the sweetest declarations he has ever heard, not just of someone’s love, but for how they see them. And then Harmony slaps Clem, hard, across the face. She turns and is almost out of the door before Spike or Clem can react.

“We’re leaving.”

Clem turns to Spike, genuine affection between them. “Great seeing you, Spike!”

“Likewise. You ever get sick of her abuse…”

“Oh, I’ll never get tired of that.”

“Yeah, you’re a peculiar sort of masochist, ain’t you..? Hang on…” He looks down at the book. By the time he’s looked up, Clem and Harmony have gone.

Turning to a page at the back of the book, Spike sees that Clem did indeed create a rule on an obscure page. “Oh, bloody Hell. He wrote something after all! What fresh Hell has that idiot unleashed?”

Harmony is still complaining as they walk out of the building. “I cannot believe you. No regard for my feelings whatsoever. You don’t care about me. You don’t care what I want. You don’t… Oh.” She stops and looks up and finds herself staring at a unicorn.

“Clem, you bloody softy,” Spike says as he sees the words ‘UNICORNS ARE TOTALLY REAL’ scribbled quickly. Spike laughs. “Well, I reckon the world will survive. Wish it was always that easy.”

He looks down at them now from his window.

Spike turns back to his files, and places the book down on top of them. He flicks through it for a moment, thinking. He’s tempted. Too tempted. He speaks aloud what he would write if he could.

“‘Fulfilling the Shanshu Prophecy, William the Bloody was restored to living, human form. He and the Slayer dwelt together in love and happiness, forever after.’”

A voice from the doorway interrupts him. “Not bad. If you overlook the minor hiccup that it doesn’t give one party a choice in the matter.” As Xander walks into the apartment, he puts his bag down and removes his jacket. “Pesky details, huh?”

Spike shakes his head, closes the book quickly. “I wasn’t really going to…”

Xander raises his hand. “I know. Neither am I. But I’ve sure as Hell been tempted. Dawn told me even she’s thought about it. It’d be easier. But it wouldn’t be real. Real love doesn’t have shortcuts.”

Spike looks down at the book again. “So a wise and wrinkly man just said. Old soulless me would’ve done it in a heartbeat. He always did know how to bollocks things up. I could never do that to her. To me, neither. Not now she’s finally happy. For both our sakes, I gotta move on. And if I’m honest, for the first time, I feel like I am.”

Xander pulls a beer from the fridge, passes one to Spike. “Yeah, you two have seemed pretty sympatico lately.”

Spike thanks him with a toast gesture and opens the beer. “Noticed, did you? Funny thing is, I always related a bit to those sullen stalker types who whine about being in the ‘friend zone.’ But now that me and her are proper friends, well, it’s nice, that’s all. In a lotta ways we’re closer than we were when we were blowing the grounsils.”

Xander doesn’t want to know what that means. He blocks his ears and misses Spike’s definition. Spike laughs at his roommate.

“All I’m saying is, I think we’re finally doing what’s best for both of us. And we can actually make a go of it like this, you know?” As he shrugs and leans against the counter, two friends talking through their day, Spike is unaware that Buffy has heard his every word.

When she arrives at her own place, Willow is on the couch with Dawn, choosing a movie. “Hey. Everything okay with the book?”

Buffy nods. And then she lies. “Yeah, uh, I could hear Xander snoring. Must’ve put in a long day. I didn’t wanna bother him. I’ll get it later. No rush.”

Elsewhere, specifically in a mine beneath Antioch, California, a sinister, growling voice complains to his companions. “I fail to comprehend the urgency of all of this.”

It’s the Soul Glutton. And he’s talking with the Mistress, who’s chewing her food, relishing it. “I do appreciate the refreshments,” she says, burping loudly. “Oh, excuse me… and the need to put aside our differences in the face of the Slayer possessing the means to shape magic itself. But even working together, we have no hope of beating her and our old rival.”

A third voice, in the shadows, speaks out. “You misunderstand, my dear Mistress. I am proposing we remain in the shadows. Watch, wait and orchestrate.”

“I am the Soul Glutton. Subtlety is not in my nature.”

But the voice in the shadows tells him to be patient. “But you want revenge more than anything, don’t you? You won’t get it with a frontal assault. My plan will serve up your vengeance on a silver platter.”

It is the Mistress’s turn now to question their unseen ally. “Why should we heed your counsel, Sculptor?”

And then the third voice is cast in light. It’s a horrific sight: the Sculptor is a demon that looks like it’s body consists of gooey, wet wax. He has four eyes, all yellow with red pupils, and he has human limbs protruding from his blob-like form.

He turns to the pair and smiles, if one could call it that. “Quite simply, understanding how things fit together is my vocation. And avocation. I have studied our foes closely. This Slayer has departed from those of the past. Rather than isolate herself, she has surrounded herself with loved ones and, paradoxically, this has made her stronger.”

“But with the arrival of our old friend, I believe that what made her strong becomes a weakness, given who she has allied herself with. I propose, for the moment, that we allow our problems to solve each other.”

The Mistress slaps her tentacles together in glee. “I like this. Regardless of who wins, the survivor won’t emerge unscathed.”

The Soul Glutton snarls in agreement. “Yes, and we’ll have manoeuvred events to our advantage. We’ll eat them alive.”

The Mistress turns to the Glutton, slaps him with one of her tentacles now. “Oh, look what you’ve done. I’m hungry again.”

The Sculptor moves towards them, and directs them towards a large pit in the centre of the mine. It’s filled with humans, wailing and screaming to get out.

“That’s quite all right, my lady… I brought enough for everyone.”