Floor 1: Chapter Twenty One

The damp morning air was thick with anticipation as all eleven of us gathered outside the tomb entrance. Two soldiers braced against the slab, waiting for my signal. My heartbeat rose in steady rhythm, answering the faint, unnatural pulsing that seeped from within the stone.

To my right stood the six ‘Fangs’, Kael so straight-backed I almost wanted to make fun of him. Val, Eshlyn, Dent, and Selene waited to the left. Dagonbord lingered a good twenty feet away, like the tomb’s shadow might reach for him if he stood too close.

I met Selene’s gaze first, then glanced at the soldiers. “No one comes in after us. Got it?”
“Understood, my Lady,” one said, as Selene gave a sharp nod.

I turned to Kael’s team, already cringing at the thought of calling them the Vanguard Fangs. “Ready?”
Kael nodded once, and they fell into formation. Tovin at the point, Kael and Bram flanking, Sierra, Nico, and Lyssa bringing up the rear.

“Alright then.” I turned to Val, Eshlyn, and Dent. “Ready?”
Val unsheathed the twin swords he’d been sharpening half the night. Dent bounced on his toes like a boxer, shaking his arms to burn off nerves. Eshlyn only nodded, but I caught the worry in her eyes.

I stepped in beside Dent and joined his little pre-battle dance. Val followed suit, all three of us prancing around like idiots until we turned to Eshlyn.
“C’mon, Esh. Shake it off,” I teased.
She rolled her eyes, holding still for a stubborn moment, then gave in just enough to bounce with us. A reluctant smirk creeping onto her face.

We huddled in close, shoulders brushing.
“We got this,” Dent said.
“Yeah we do,” Val added, already grinning like an idiot.
“First day,” I murmured, meeting their eyes in turn. “Be smart, stay close.”

Then, without warning, Dent hooked his arm through mine. Val followed, trapping me in a ridiculous knot of elbows.
“On three,” Dent said.
“One…” Val started.

Eshlyn’s eyes couldn’t roll any harder, but she played along anyway, “two.”
“Three!” I cut in, yanking us all into a quick, awkward squeeze before shoving them off.

We broke apart laughing under our breath, the tension just light enough to breathe again.

As the huddle broke, I caught Eshlyn’s hand. “Hey.”
She turned back, her face pale enough to confirm my guess. “…Yes?”
“You okay?” I pulled her a few steps away from the others.
“I’m good.” She laced her fingers with mine, but it rang false.
“Easy day, get the sample, come back. Done.”
“Right.” She breathed shallow. “Easy.”

“Listen to me.” I cupped the back of her neck and leaned in until our foreheads touched. “We’ll be fine.” Her eyes closed as I pulled her into a loose embrace. “Deep breaths, ok.” She nodded, matching me inhale for inhale.

“You can do this.”

“Right…” She breathed again. “I can do this.”

When she opened her eyes again, the green in them had warmed back to life. She squeezed my hand as we turned toward the others.
“Alright, Fangs,” I said. “You’re up.”

We stood just out of reach as their formation moved up to the stone slab, and Kael called out. “Open it.”

I nodded as the two soldiers looked at me, then pressed into the slab. When the gap was wide enough, the stale breath of the tomb spilled out to meet us, cold, dry, faintly metallic. I stepped closer, peering into the black mouth of the stairwell. The last time I’d stood here, the air had been alive with shrieks and the clatter of bones.

Now… nothing.

Kael’s formation hesitated at the threshold. I bent down after a beat, picking up a loose rock from the dirt, and tossing it into the dark. The clatter rang sharp against the stone steps, bouncing down and down, the echo folding over itself until it faded into silence. No answering groan. No shuffle of movement. Just the slow drip of water somewhere far below.

“Stairways clear at least,” Val murmured from beside me.

“Mhmm,” I added sarcastically. “Great.”

Kael glanced back at me, then gestured. “Move in.”

Their group descended first, boots whispering against the stone, weapons drawn. We followed close behind, Dagonbord at our backs, till the tomb swallowed us whole.

...

Lantern light lit the passageway, tearing off from the bottom of the stairwell. The shattered remains of a large wooden door lay at our feet.

Images of Val and Eshlyn braced against it flashed in my mind, their shoulders digging into the wood, the sound of claws raking the other side, the air thick with the stench of rot. We each shared a glance as we stepped over the wreckage. Val’s jaw tightened, and Eshlyn’s fingers flexed like she could still feel the strain in her arms. Despite the tension, I set an aetherscript scribble over the side wall, letters glowing over blue glass. ‘Chokepoint.’

Beyond, the air grew heavier. Still wet, thick, and stale, but now it carried something sharper underneath, like rust scraped against stone. What had once been granite walls covered in dark tendrils were now almost unrecognizable, buried under the same pulsing organic sprawl we’d seen before… only denser, like scar tissue layered over itself. The tendrils had thickened. The mucus sheen on the walls glistened darker under the light.

We moved down through the initial corridor and into the first chamber. It stretched outward like a cathedral, vast and dim. The silence lay heavy, swallowing the sound of our boots and feeding it back in faint echoes beneath the steady pulse of the tendrils.

Bram spoke first, throwing lazy jabs into the empty air. “Place is creepy, but damn does it feel empty.”

“The ground feels like scarred skin,” Sierra muttered, shifting her weight like she didn’t want to touch it for long. “It’s not empty. It’s fucking gross.”

“This is only the first chamber.” Eshlyn flicked her wrist, sending a bead of light drifting toward a far-off corridor, some hundred yards away. “Through there, a few bends, then another chamber will open up.”

“Naw.” Dent’s head turned before she’d even finished speaking, his eyes locking on a different stretch of wall. He shook himself, as if clearing fog.

We all paused.

“What?” I asked sharply, then added, “Dent, the tendrils grow thicker the closer we get to the heart. We figured that out last time; that has to be the way forward.”

“Yeah… Sorry.” He inhaled deeply, shoulders rising like he was trying to push something down. “That makes sense.”

“Leave it to us, Dent, we remember,” Val muttered, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Okay, well, we can’t move until you all figure out which way it is,” Bram snapped. “Care to cut the bullshit?”

The hell is her problem? I thought, but just said, “Hang tight a second.” I pulled Dent a few steps from the group. “What’s going on with you?”

“I don’t know.” His gaze was steady, but there was something behind it, like he was listening to a voice no one else could hear. “There’s something here. I can feel it.”

“What kind of something?” I pressed, hand on his shoulder.

He hesitated, eyes flicking back toward that same stretch of wall. “I’m not sure, maybe a trap? Something is just… wrong.”

“There weren’t any traps last time.” I swept the chamber with my vision, focusing my intent to shift into the heightened clarity I’d used in the woods. “And I’m not seeing anything.”

“Hmm.” He mirrored me for a moment, but there was no real searching in it, more like confirmation. “Sorry. Paranoia, I guess.”

“Right.” I didn’t buy it, but let it hang.

“Let me just check something.” He moved past the front of the formation, where Tovin led.

“The hell are you doing?” Kael barked. “Get back in formation.”

“Just a sec,” I told him, keeping close to Dent’s side.

He took some fifty steps forward before stopping abruptly, arm shooting out to bar my path, eyes fixed on the floor, then crouched, plucking a rock from the chamber’s edge, and tossing it forward. It punched through the mat of pulsing tendrils with a wet snap, leaving a man-sized hole before clattering hard on stone below.

“Holy shit! A pit trap?” I stared at him in disbelief.

The ground shuddered under my feet in the same moment, and before I could step back, a skeletal arm burst from the tendrils and clamped my ankle with a grip like death. I yanked at it, nearly losing my balance, but Dent’s staff came down with a splintering crack. Sending bone shards scattering across the skin-textured floor. The grip fell away, just as the chamber came alive.

Shapes clawed themselves from the floor, pulling free from mats of blackened tendrils. More dropped from the walls, their brittle joints grinding like wet gravel. One landed in a crouch barely five feet away, empty sockets fixed on me.

“Contact front!” Kael’s voice cut sharp through the sudden noise.

Their whole group moved instantly, weapons flashing in the lantern light. A jet of fire roared out from Sierra’s palm, turning a lunging skeleton into a collapsing torch. Bram met an adjacent one head-on, gauntlets cracking through its ribcage with a sound like splintered wood, then drove a fist up through another one's jaw, sending its skull flying. For every one that fell, two more were dragging themselves up from the dark.

“Dent! Remy! Get back here, now!” Val’s voice rang out through the chaos. He was already carving a path toward me, twin blades flashing in the lantern light, each strike sending shards of bone spinning away.

Eshlyn was right behind him, a ring of lightning swirling at her back like a fan of charged spears. She swept her arms forward, sending the volley arching into the swarm, each streak punching through skulls and shattering ribcages before the current bent to find another.

Then Dent’s roar tore through the chamber, deep and animalistic. His body warped and cracked, fur bursting across muscle as his frame swelled. In the space of a breath, he shifted into a massive bear, bounding back towards the group with enough force to send half a dozen skeletons flying, and clearing a path wide enough for me to follow.

I closed in behind him in quick step, loosing an arrow mid-stride. The shot caught a skeletal figure mid-drop as it fell into the gap between us. “Moving!” I called, pushing forward.

Still, corpses flooded the chamber like rain.

My attention shifted to the ripple of motion in my peripherals, skeletal shapes clawing up the columns, using the tangled tendrils like a ladder. They dropped down in jagged bursts, bone scraping stone, landing hard behind our line.

“Godsdammit, they’re everywhere!” Sierra barked before thrusting her hand upward, sending a fireball streaking into the dark and detonating against the ceiling. The blast rolled through the chamber, scattering burning fragments and sending multiple climbers plummeting in flame.

I snapped a shot into another skeleton just as it reached for Dagonbord; he didn’t even flinch, gaze somewhere else entirely. Lyssa stepped in, sword trembling in her grip. She was out of her depth, but she put herself between him and the corpses anyway.

A quick crunch echoed behind me, and Dent pivoted, jaws closing over the figure's skull. Snapping down with a wet crack, dropping it limp before flicking his eyes toward the corridor. He didn’t have to speak.

“We’re getting boxed in!” I shouted.

“Fall back to the corridor!” Kael’s voice barked the order. Their loose formation began shifting even as they struck and stepped backward. Val fell in beside me, deflecting a lunging skeleton and shoving me toward the narrowing passage.

The retreat was ugly. They always are, but we hacked through the last dozen in our path, every step matched by rattling, scraping pursuit. The chamber narrowed into the corridor ahead. Tovin hit it first, shield bashing the closest skeleton before he braced at the entrance. “Fall in!” he snapped, each of us finding our position against the swarm. It wasn’t a perfect chokepoint, but it would have to do.

Then the screech hit, low, guttural, and too close. My stomach dropped. It was coming from behind us.

“How did they get behind us!?” Sierra’s voice pitched high.

“Who cares! Handle this shit already! Bram barked.

I ignored them both, scanning down the dim stretch toward the stairway to catch the sight of a single armored figure barreling toward us, massive shield raised, and closing the distance with unnatural speed. “Nico!” I shouted, loosing an arrow that lodged deep in the brute’s shoulder plate. “Contact rear!”

They were at my side instantly, their own arrow embedding into the shield that covered most of its bulk. “On it!”

The snarls from the chamber behind me deepened, a chorus rising with the titan’s thundering approach. I knew immediately, if the figure ahead broke through our line, it’d leave us scattered against the mass of undead. “Eshlyn! Sierra! We need space, now!”

“Right.” Eshlyn stepped forward, her eyes already closing as she whispered the first syllables of an incantation. Sierra moved to her side, fire coiling at her fingertips. Kael, Bram, Val, and Tovin tightened the line just enough to give them room, steel and fists holding back the swarm. Dent planted himself in front of me and Nico, massive frame squared against the charging juggernaut. Arrows jutted from its armor and shield, but it never slowed.

The temperature dropped with Eshlyn’s exhale. A wave of frost burst from her palms, racing across the chamber in a wide arc. Sierra’s fire followed, roaring into the frozen mass. The clash detonated into a shattering blast, sending bone and ice whirling through the air.

Eshlyn staggered back a step, her breath ragged. A sheen of sweat broke over her pale skin despite the cold she’d just unleashed. Sierra’s shoulders slumped, chest heaving, her hands trembling faintly as the last embers curled from her fingers. But the chamber lay in ruin, bone shards, ice splinters, and smoldering fragments littered the floor. Only a handful of stragglers still clattered at the edges

Then came the titan. Its shield slammed into Dent’s snout with a sickening crack, the force hurling his massive bear form into the wall hard enough to make the stone chip. His fur quickly receded as he fell to the floor, unconscious.

“Break!” I yelled, diving sideways as Nico mirrored me. The armored figure thundered through the gap, heavy boots grinding over broken bone from the shattered swarm. The others moved fast, peeling away to spread out in the open space ahead. Without a word, Lyssa was already closing in on Dent, sidestepping the brute's charge with the others.

The juggernaut slowed in the clearing, then raised its blade high, bringing it down on Tovin with a roar. He braced against the impact, shield high, conjoined with a shimmering aether barrier that covered him, head to toe.

The impact slammed through the air like a thunderclap. The ground shuddered beneath our feet, dust sifting from the ceiling, but it held, and that was all the opening we needed.

Val darted in first, blades flashing in quick, relentless arcs that forced the juggernaut back a step. Kael’s halberd swept low, hooking behind its leg to rip its stance open. Bram surged through the gap with a bellow, gauntlets hammering into its chest plate hard enough to cave the metal inward.

It tried to raise its shield again, but Nico’s arrow punched into the joint at its elbow, locking it halfway. My own shot hit high on its helm, snapping its head back just as Kael’s halberd came down like an executioner’s axe, splitting the gap between helm and chest. The undead ascender crumpled, armor clattering to the ground.

Silence settled over the chamber, broken only by the echo of our breathing. Then came the sound, low at first, more vibration than voice, crawling up through the stone.

“…Get… out…”

The words dragged like they’d been pulled through water, heavy and distorted. I couldn’t tell if they came from the husk, the walls around us, or something waiting deeper inside.

No one moved. Even Kael’s grip on the halberd stayed tight, eyes scanning the shadows as if expecting another wave.

...

We didn’t speak until nothing but eerie silence echoed in our step and we’d pulled back into the corridor, close enough to monitor the open chamber but far enough to feel safe. The air here was still thick with the musk of old stone and the faint, metallic tang of the tomb, but at least it was still.

Kael set the halberd’s butt against the ground and leaned on it just enough to keep his balance, his gaze fixed on the dark ahead. Bram stood at the narrowest point, shoulders squared, daring anything to try and come through.

Eshlyn had her back to the wall, knees drawn up, eyes half-closed as she forced her breathing steady. Sierra crouched next to her, rubbing clammy hands against her trousers like she could shake off the strain. Dent sat opposite them, still in his human form, jaw tight, a smear of dried blood across his temple from where the juggernaut had slammed him.

I dropped down beside Val, my bow resting across my lap, the weight of the last few minutes settling in my ribs. Lyssa knelt by Dent without a word, her palm glowing faintly as she coaxed the swelling in his jaw to fade.

No one asked what that voice had been, but we all knew what it meant, and its message was clear.

Finally, Val broke the silence with just a whisper. “Nice shooting back there.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Val?” I joked, voice low and lazy.

He grinned. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Complimenting me?” I tilted my head back, lazily. “So unlike you.”

“Oh, don't even. I compliment you all the time.”

“When you want something.” I teased.

“Shut up.” He chuckled, nudging my arm. “Seriously, your callouts might have made the difference there. I don’t want to think about what might of happened if that brute had crashed into us before the chamber was clear.”

“Agreed,” Nico called from further down.

“Stop.” I brushed off the sentiment. “That was all Eshlyn and Sierra.”

“Fire and ice.” Eshlyn chimed in then, scooting closer with strained effort. “Hell of a combination.”

“Hell yeah, biiiitchhh.” Sierra leaned over and bumped her shoulder against Eshlyn’s. “You got the stuff, girl.”

I couldn’t help but breathe a laugh at that.

“Your calls were sound,” Kael said without looking at me.

I only nodded, then stretched out a leg to nudge Dent’s boot. “You good?”

“Never better.” Dent smiled, all teeth and no truth.

“Liar,” Lyssa said flatly, hands still glowing green over his skin.

We both laughed.

“Yeah, call him on his shit, Lyssa,” I added.

“Call him on his shit?” Bram turned, voice sharp. “Alright then, how the fuck did you know that trap was there?”

Dent didn’t blink. “Saw something was off.”

“Damn right something’s off.” Bram’s eyes narrowed as she took a step towards us. “Because from where I was standing, you didn’t just see it, you knew it. And then the skeletons start moving like they’ve got a shared brain, and that brute just so happens to flank us right after we form up in the corridor?” She leaned forward, voice sharpening. “That’s. Not. Luck.”

Val barked a laugh without humor. “You’re creating conspiracy boards in your head. We just fought through hell, Bram. You want to write a mystery novel about it?”

“It’s hardly a damn mystery,” Bram shot back. “He’s infected, and those things moved like they knew what we’d do!”

“Dent’s not pulling their strings, you paranoid fuck!” Val stood up, voice hardening. “You're just losing your nerve.”

Bram didn’t flinch. “I’m keeping us alive, which is more than I can say for you if you can’t pull your head out of your friend’s ass long enough to see the risk in him being here.”

“Risk!?” I shot up, fists clenched. “He’s the only reason you’re not face down in a pit trap right now. Or did your smooth-muscle of a brain forget that bit?”

“You let your fuck partners fight all your battles?” She motioned to Dent, but he didn't rise.

Val took a step forward. “Say that again, I fucking dare you!”

“Enough.” Kael’s voice cracked through the corridor. He stepped between them, halberd shaft angled like it wouldn’t take much to shove either one back. “You can rip into each other when we’re not standing in a catacomb with who knows what listening.”

Val’s glare stayed locked on Bram. “Get your dog on a fucking leash.”

Bram stepped in hard, until Kael was the only thing keeping them from full contact. “I will fuck you up, you know that?”

“Fucking try, pony bitch.” I scoffed, moving in beside Val, hand dropping to the hilt of my dagger. “See what happens.”

Kael’s halberd shaft pressed between them, shoving Bram back a step. His voice was low and precise. “Get back in line. That is an order.” For a moment, his gaze didn’t leave hers, something unspoken passing between them.

Bram’s eyes stayed locked on Val, but her weight shifted back just enough to still the air.

Kael shoved Bram back another step, halberd shaft still angled between them.

Val’s jaw flexed, but he eased half a step toward the wall. I let my hand drop from the dagger hilt, pulse still running hot.

Bram’s stare stayed locked on us, but she didn’t close the distance again. The corridor went heavy and quiet, just the sound of breathing and boots shifting on stone.

“You’re all wasting your breath,” Tovin said, voice low but carrying. He glanced around the group. “The question is simple. Do we keep moving, or do we pull back?”

Somehow, that got everyone’s attention.

“I’ve seen enough for today,” Dagonbord spoke from further down the hall, as if he’d just appeared, but he wasted no time turning to walk back towards the stairs. “So I will take my leave.”

I forgot he was even here, and no one acknowledged him leaving.

“We can’t do that blast more than once without severe strain,” Eshlyn said, still pale. “And if that was the first chamber, I don’t want to guess at the second.”

“Could be empty,” Sierra offered, though her voice wavered. “Might’ve thrown everything at us early.”

“No point in speculating,” Lyssa said, finally letting Dent go and settling beside him. “We should assume there’s more.”

Nico leaned forward, forearms on his knees. “At least now we know what we’re up against, a sophisticated enemy that can hide under the tendrils, nearly imperceptible.”

“That’s the real problem,” Eshlyn added. “Those tendrils are everywhere. Anything could be under them: pit traps, skeletal undead, ascender husks ready to hit us from the rear. This is their house, and they have the advantage.”

“Dent has good eyes,” I lied. “He saw the first one; he can warn us about the rest.”

All eyes shifted to me, but Dent didn’t stir, just met my gaze, knowing.

“The scholars and herbalists are sitting on their hands until we get that sample,” I said. “And if our enemy is sophisticated, I’d rather not give them more time to prepare.”

“You’d like us to proceed, then?” Kael asked.

“No,” I said quickly. “I want to vote.”

That landed like a slap against stone. No one spoke.

Eshlyn blinked at me, then gave a slow, weary nod. “I figured this might come up.” She reached into the pouch at her hip, pulling free a small bundle of torn parchment and a tin cup. “One vote per person. Fold it and pass it back to me.”

The silence stretched as she moved around the group, handing each of us a slip and a bit of charcoal. Val scribbled something down quickly and flicked his slip shut with more force than necessary. Nico hesitated for half a second, then bent forward to write, expression unreadable. Kael accepted his without question and returned it with brisk efficiency. Lyssa bit her lip in contemplation. Sierra sighed, muttered something under her breath, and took hers like she didn’t want to touch it. Bram just grunted, and Tovin was too far off for me to read.

When Eshlyn reached Dent, he didn’t move.

“You okay?” she asked quietly, holding the last slip out.

He stared at it. Then shook his head slightly.

Eshlyn's brows furrowed, eyes fixed. “Dent.”

He took the slip then, folded it blank, and dropped it into the pouch with the rest. Eshlyn paused, eventually nodding in understanding, but tossed me a glance before sitting back down and turning one in for herself.

My vote was easy. Right or wrong, I wasn’t sure, but I made a mental pact to bite whatever consequences came of it.

The rest passed them back to her in silence, paper crinkling softly between fingers. Eshlyn didn’t look at any of us, only covered the tin with one hand, her other steady as stone. Then, kneeling in the dirt, lantern light flickering over her knuckles, she opened them, one at a time.

“Go.”

“Stop.”

“Go.”

“Stop.”

“Go.”

“Stop.”

She froze, lips pressed into a thin line. “Four and four.”

The quiet turned heavier, like we’d all been holding our breath without knowing. Eshlyn looked at me in turn. Everyone did.

She held the pouch toward me, both hands open like she didn’t want to be the one holding it anymore. “Tied. You’re the Lady. It’s yours to break.”

I stared at the tin. At the scraps of torn, dirt-stained paper. Smudged charcoal bleeding in the corners. Eight voices. Eight reasons. And two people who hadn't spoken.

Then I exhaled slowly. “Two people abstained.”

That earned some glances. Nico’s brow lifted. Bram frowned. Kael said nothing, but his jaw shifted. I looked at Eshlyn. “We vote again.”

This time, the air felt tighter. More pointed. No one joked. No one stalled. The second round came back faster. Eshlyn opened them in the same rhythm. Just her hand, her voice, and the decisions.

“Go.”

“Stop.”

“Go.”

“Stop.”

“Go.”

She paused a moment before unfurling the last parchment. The faintest flicker of surprise in her eyes. “...Go.”

A beat passed. Then she looked at me, “Five and four,” she said quietly. “It’s decided.”

Then I exhaled through my nose. “Very well. We proceed.”

Val nodded once, like he’d been holding his breath for it. Kael didn’t react. Nico tilted his head back against the stone, eyes closed. Lyssa glanced toward Dent, who hadn’t moved.

“But,” I added, “we need to adapt.” That got a few heads to turn.

“Brute force isn’t going to save us here; we need insight. Perception. Me, Nico, and Dent should move up front. Tovin behind us, shield ready. The rest of the formation remains the same. The three of us will keep our eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary, and if Dent says there's danger, we trust him.”

Bram snorted but didn’t argue. Kael gave a sharp nod. Tovin just touched the edge of his staff and gave me the barest look of agreement.

“Lastly, we’ll move slow enough to be sure. No more guessing.”

The air was quiet, but everyone gathered their gear and began forming up as described.

Lyssa adjusted her satchel, eyes scanning the group. “Well… no one stormed off. That’s something.”

Sierra gave a dry, crooked smile. “Yet.” She stood, brushing dust from her pants. “Let’s just not die in the next room, yeah?”

They bumped fists loosely, nothing flashy, just shared nerves and the start of trust.

No one felt like they’d won.
Only that it’d been decided fairly.
And Dent hadn’t looked up once.

...

We stuck to the formation, moving slower than a crawl, every step deliberate. Nico, Dent, and I led the line, eyes combing the walls, floor, and ceiling with relentless focus. Prodding at anything that even looked out of place.

The tendrils were thicker here, but quieter, not gone, just… settled. They pulsed faintly beneath the stone like veins under skin. Each corridor curved with that same unnatural bend. Where the tomb had once felt mutated, now it was undeniably alive.

No one spoke. But the silence was deafening. Even our footsteps sounded wrong, muffled by the thick, warm air, until only the pulse remained, low and steady, like a drum we marched to without consent.

We slowed to a halt just shy of the second sanctum.

The space was circular, like we remembered, but it wasn’t the same. The stone benches still sat half-sunken beneath fleshy overgrowth. Tattered banners clung to the walls above. But the center… was empty. Too empty.

No corpses. No husks. No rusted weapons or shattered bone. Just the dark, discolored stain where they'd once slumped like broken puppets. That memory burned behind my eyes, vivid and close, but now there was only the smear. The residue of something moved.

“Well… It’s empty?” Nico muttered, more question than statement.

“I’m not picking up on anything,” Dent said, jaw clenched. “But whatever was here… It’s still around. Just relocated.”

“Looks clear,” I murmured, “but so did the first chamber.”

And so we moved. A snail’s pace through the room, every inch combed with dread. It took us nearly two hours just to pass through this single space and into the next corridor.

The hallway narrowed again, tighter than before, and somehow darker. No light except what we brought. The pulse beneath our boots grew louder with each step, a sluggish rhythm like something massive turning in its sleep. The walls glistened as we passed, twitching faintly, as though irritated by our presence. Every surface seemed to breathe.

When we reached the threshold of the third chamber, no one stepped through at first. We all just stood there. Listening. Watching. Waiting.

The memory clung tight in my chest. The fight with Durnan, the horde chasing us like a raging current after Val stabbed the beating heart at its center. There was nothing else to do, so I moved. One step, then another. And the space opened wide, but not like before. The massive organ, the heart, was undeniably dead, hanging limp from its arterial tendrils like moss from a branch. Dark ichor stained the chamber in lazy streams. Black veins lay severed across the floor like thick ropes abandoned mid-use.

But outside of the sprawling, lifeless organ, the chamber was empty. No alcoves full of undead. No sleeping husks. No defensive line. Just the memory of what this place had been, a hive, freshly evacuated.

Tovin’s voice came low behind me, “It’s like they packed up and left.”

“They didn’t leave,” Dent said. “They’re just not here right now.”
He didn’t elaborate. Didn’t need to.

This had once been the heart of the parasite, its living core suspended above the pools in a grotesque mockery of anatomy. Now, it was gutted. A wounded remnant of its former self, unmoving and unbeating.

I moved back to find Eshlyn. “The heart's dead.”

“Can’t say I didn’t try to kill the damn thing,” Val called back, voice dry. “Put a sword straight through it.”

“If only that’d been the end of it.” I paused then added, “Think there’s anything here we can use?”

“Not sure,” Eshlyn said, pulling out a vial with etched runes. “Let’s look around.”

As if everyone heard her, we all fanned out, careful not to get too far from one another. A beat passed, and I made my way back to Nico and Dent. “Seeing anything?”

“Nothing of note… Gods, I almost wish something would happen,” Nico whispered beside me, “just so I could release some of this anxiety.”

“I’d rather release it back topside with a flaggon of ale,” Dent responded, only half-joking.

“Sounds good to me.” I played along. “You buying?”

“Course.” He gave the faintest grin, just enough to settle my nerves.

“How about you?” I elbowed Nico lightly. “Up for a flaggon, Nico?”

“I’m half-fey,” they said with a lazy smirk. “I could outdrink both of you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Dent’s human, but I’ve seen him scarf down twenty pastries in a single sitting.”

“You’re lying.” Nico grinned, then tapped Dent on the belly. “Where’d it all go?”

“You’d think he’d be fat as a house by now.” I teased.

“Buttery dough with fruit filling is a gift straight from the gods.” Dent shrugged, then added. “You can't convince me otherwise.”

Nico and I shared a breath of laughter, then Eshlyn’s voice rang out from far off, “Over here.”

Near the back wall, half-fused into the slick membrane, was something darker than the rest. A small ventricle severed from the original heart, like a blackened aorta, twitching with slow pulses like it hadn’t realized it had been abandoned.

Eshlyn knelt beside it, contemplative. “It could be better, but it’s worth examining at least.”

I stood watch while she extracted some of the inner red liquid, pouring a few drops into a rune-etched vial same as the first. It sealed, swirled for a moment, then turned that familiar shade of gold.

“Perfect,” I said, voice hopeful.

“Not quite,” she admitted before gathering additional samples for testing. “But it’s pure and should be closer to the current mutation.”

“Think it can cure Dent?” Val stepped up from my side.

“Honestly?” She shared a glance with the two of us before peering over towards Dent. “No.”

I swallowed. Her answer was so plain, her eyes so blank. “Slow it down at least?”

She only sighed. “We’ll see.”

Kael came up to us then, Tovin and Nico in tow, “Looks like we got what we came for. Mission accomplished.”

Could’ve fooled me. “I guess so, yeah.”

“Good. We’ll stay put for a few minutes so you can gather what you need.”

In other words, hurry the fuck up.

I nodded, but Nico interrupted, pointing up at the walls and ceiling. “Hey, real quick. See all these tendrils?”

We all nodded, “Yeah, we've been seeing them all day, so what?” Val added.

“What’s your point, Nico?” Kael questioned.

Nico went on. “They stretch like arteries, and pulse with a heartbeat. Something has to be fueling them, but there it is, plain as day, the heart is dead. So how are they still pulsing? What is beating if not this?”

I traced the path of arterial tendrils stretching across the cavern until they reached the dead heart in the center. They thickened the closer they got, but led nowhere from here, and still drummed as if this were its center. “...That’s a good question.”

“Solid observation,” Kael said. “Something to think about… topside.” Then tilted his head, “Let’s go.”

I looked at Dent. He was just standing there, quiet, hands at his sides. Watching the dead heart like it meant nothing to him.

But something in me twisted like a knife in my gut.

...

It was late afternoon by the time we surfaced, exhausted, not from combat but from the kind of bone-deep paranoia that made every corridor feel like a trap.

The evening debrief was simple. Eshlyn handed off the samples to the lead scholar, an older, overweight gentleman with too many lenses on his spectacles. He recommended we hold a day while his team ran diagnostics. Kael and I agreed to begin mapping structures on the next dive, so for now, we were told to rest. Dent said that meant drinks, and I agreed, for once, that sounded like a great idea.

No one had expected a liquor stand halfway through a cursed forest, but there it was. Three mismatched tables, a rain-stained tarp overhead, and a bar made from two stacked supply crates with a rough plank balanced across them. A hand-painted sign dangled crookedly off a nail:

“Milo’s Best Brews”

The man behind the bar wore a pressed waistcoat, a bowtie, and the cocky grin of someone who knew damn well we had nowhere else to go. He polished a mug like this was a real tavern and not a shoddy booth nestled in the shadow of parasitic hell.

Eshlyn arrived ten minutes late, dragging a case like it was sacred cargo.
“If we’re going out,” she announced, “we’re doing it properly.”

Inside were our regular formal clothes, packed away cleanly and for reasons I couldn’t fathom.

I nearly gasped. “You carried these out here?”

“Yeah, sort of… I had someone else do it.” She smiled in a way I hadn’t seen since we left. “But it was my idea, of course.”

“I should have known.” I picked up the black dress, the one I’d been lowkey starting to love. “Guess I’ll go get changed.”

A few minutes later, I stepped out of my tent to find Eshlyn, Val, and Dent gathered by one of the shaky wooden tables. Eshlyn wore the same immaculate red dress from the queen’s dinner, flanked by Dent in a cream tunic trimmed with soft brown. Val had his usual black with blue underlayers, sharp enough to pass for nobility if you didn’t look too close. We looked like guests at a banquet held at the end of the world.

Milo, from behind his makeshift counter, greeted us like we were royalty.
“Ladies, gents, and enbies, welcome to Best Brews! The best, and only, bar on this side of the woods.”

Dent bowed so low I couldn’t help but scoff. He offered me his arm with exaggerated grace.
“Allow me to buy you a drink, your grace.”

I matched his tone. “Only the finest, I hope.”

“Nothing but the best shall grace the lips of your majesty.” He led me toward the counter with all the dignity a muddy forest could offer. “Your best bottle, good sir, and put it on that man’s tab.” He gestured toward Val.

“Hey, what the hell?” Val called from the table.

I waved sweetly. “How chivalrous of you to offer us such delicacies this evening.”

Val grinned, caught. He joined us at the counter with mock solemnity.
“Very well, Milo. Let us taste your finest, and perhaps your grace will grant me a dance.”

“Sway with you in the dirt and weeds?” I smirked. “I can think of nothing more delightful.”

Milo poured each of us a mug of something brown, then set the bottle between us.
“It is my pleasure to serve you this evening,” he said, still playing along. “I call this… the best brew. I trust you’ll find it to your liking.”

We each took a sip. Val winced. Dent grimaced. I nearly choked, coughing into my arm.

Dent patted my back. “Now that’ll put some hair on your chest.”

I managed to croak, “Best brew indeed.”

Milo nodded with great satisfaction. “Enjoy.”

Nico, Lyssa, Sierra, and Eshlyn were already gathered when we returned to the table, the mismatched wood groaning under their mugs. A soft wind wound through the skeletal branches above, making the tarp overhead creak like the bones of some ancient ship.

Nico leaned back, eyes on Dent. “Still up for that drinking contest?”

“You read my mind.” Dent lifted his mug in salute, then tipped it back with alarming ease. “Cheers to a job well done, and Nico? You’re going down.”

“Y’all enjoy,” I said, setting my own drink down next to Eshlyn. “I choose to live another day.”

Eshlyn only winked. “Wise choice.”

Sierra smirked over her mug. “Don’t doubt, Nico has a fey stomach. They got this on lock.”

“No one drinks like the fey,” Nico agreed, downing their own brew with theatrical flourish. “And I’m an enby of my word.”

Off to the side, a lone soldier plucked at a battered guitar. The chords were off, the rhythm worse, but the sound wandered into the clearing like a homesick echo. Somehow, it was enough.

Val caught my eye and offered a hand. “Shall we?”

There wasn’t really a floor, just mossy earth and scattered pine needles, but I let him pull me close. The swaying was slow, awkward, but warm in the ways that mattered. I leaned into his chest, his arms circling my waist like a steady current. For a while, he said nothing. Just held me, and I let the world shrink to the quiet scrape of boots on dirt and the creak of the tarp in the wind.

Eventually, he murmured, “Hell of a lie you told today.”

I tilted my head back, feigning shock. “Lie? Me? I’d never.”

“‘Dent has good eyes’?” His mouth curved faintly. “Please.”

I smirked, half serious. “You think they know?”

“What, Kael and his little pack of miscreants?” He shrugged. “Not a chance. But Bram, ” his gaze flicked, sharp as a knife, “she’s itching for trouble.”

“Ugh.” My nostrils flared before I could help it. “Where does she get off accusing Dent like that?”

His smile tilted. “I kinda like seeing you angry.”

“Angry and bossy, that’s your type, huh?”

“Only when it’s you.”

“How charming,” I drawled.

“Mind if I cut in?” Eshlyn’s voice came from just behind me, smooth as silk but edged with mischief.

Dent staggered into view beside her, bowing low enough to nearly topple. “Shall I haaave this dancce, gooood sir?”

Val laughed, releasing me into Eshlyn’s waiting hands. “Thought you’d never ask.”

And just like that, my dance partner was twirling Dent across the moss in a crooked, lazy waltz, the two of them swaying to the soldier’s tuneless chords while Eshlyn’s palm settled warm at my back.

Eshlyn led me in an easy circle, drifting lightly, like the breeze. She didn’t say much, just let me breathe in the faint scent of her hair and the strange, acrid sweetness of Milo’s brew lingering in the air.

Around us, the mismatched little banquet carried on, Dent and Val’s crooked waltz drew laughter from Nico and Sierra, the soldier’s bad guitar drifting over it all like an off-key lullaby.

For a moment, the dead forest felt almost alive.

But the wind shifted, rattling the tarp above us, and the smell of damp earth gave way to something sharper, metallic, like rain on iron. A reminder that this place, for all its warmth tonight, was still as dangerous as ever.

I let the sway of the dance slow, leaning into Eshlyn like her warmth would keep me whole.

...

By the time we finally stepped away, Lyssa and Sierra were still arguing over who’d actually won the drinking contest, while Nico had wandered off toward the guitar player. Val was locked in a smug debate with Milo about the definition of “good liquor.” Eshlyn veered off when we did, pressing a soft goodnight kiss to my lips that Dent immediately made fun of.

It felt good to see him enjoy himself, laughing like that, loud, unguarded, shoulders shaking in a way I hadn’t seen in weeks. He said it made him feel normal again. Maybe I should have pressed him on what that meant, but I just loved seeing him happy, so I let it go.

We’d stumbled back to camp late, him louder than usual, arm wrapped around my shoulders, me steady enough to guide him into his tent and drop him onto the cot like a sack of potatoes. Nyla followed me in as I slumped into my own tent just a few feet away, dragging my boots off with more force than finesse. My head spun once when I lay back. Just once. Then everything went quiet.

I woke to Nyla’s wet nose pressed against my jaw, eyes cracking open. “Ugh. Not this again.”

She nudged me with a paw then, little razors tucked just under her pads, just sharp enough to be jarring.

I rose swiftly, “Damn, what has gotten into you?”

She didn’t growl. Didn’t make a sound. Just stared, ears flat, tail twitching once, then padded a slow circle by the tent flap. That low, crouching tension she only got when something was wrong. A scent. A shift in the air. Trouble.

I rose, grabbed my dagger. “What is it, girl?”

Outside, the moon hung low, casting the camp in a pale wash of silver. The embers from the central fire had dimmed to a soft glow. No movement besides a soldier or two on patrol, but Nyla stepped lightly ahead toward Dent’s tent, ears still pinned.

Then I saw it.
His flap was barely parted. Canvas shifting like it had been moved.
Someone was inside.

My pulse spiked, adrenaline burning away the last traces of liquor.

I crept forward quickly, damp grass curling around my feet, until I crouched near the entrance. Moonlight poured in just enough to cast soft silver lines across the floor. And there, kneeling beside Dent’s cot, her hands hovering inches above his chest, glowing with a faint orange light, was Lyssa.

What the hell?

I wasn’t taking chances, not after the bullshit Bram pulled earlier, so I moved in, silent as night.
She didn’t notice until my palm was over her mouth and my dagger kissed her throat.
She jolted, then froze.

“You’d better have a damn good reason for being in here,” I whispered, voice low and lethal.
“I’m going to lift my hand, and you’re not going to do anything stupid. Got that?”

She nodded, slowly.
I pulled my hand back, deliberate. She didn’t move, didn’t shout, didn’t even breathe loud.
Just lowered her hands from Dent’s chest, the soft orange glow fading between her fingers.

“He’s not hurt,” she whispered. Calm, but not cold. “And I’m not harming him.”

“No?” My blade stayed close. “Then what the hell are you doing?”

“Just confirming something I felt earlier.” She swallowed. “Just… breathe, alright? I’m not a threat.”

“You wait until the dead of night to come in here,” I said, not relaxing in the slightest. “Why?”

“I didn’t want anyone to find out.” Her voice stayed matter-of-fact, but low. “Not until I was sure.”

“Sure of what?” I questioned.

“You'll kill me when I tell you.”

“I might if you don’t.”

“His heartbeat… It’s in sync with the tombs.”

Dammit, Dent, what the hell is happening with you?

“They share a heartbeat?” My breath caught. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, it's the same rhythm, an exact match.”

Holy fuck

“...Who else knows you’re here?”

She hesitated, like she debated lying. “…No one.”

Bold move.

“No one else knows about this?”

“... no…” She breathed, voice faltering slightly.

If she tells someone, they’ll come after Dent before we’re able to find a cure.

I could end this right here.

Just one quiet push. No witnesses.

I’d never forgive myself.

But Dent would be safe… for now.

“I didn’t want to make a scene,” she added. “You’ve seen how fragile things are right now.”

Gods, what the hell am I thinking?

“No kidding.” I backed away slowly and eased down onto the tent floor, blade still in hand but no longer raised.

She let out a long breath and straightened. “Gods, you think you could start a conversation, just once, without scaring the shit outta me?”

I stifled a laugh. “Seriously though, do you ever sleep?”

“Do you?” she shot back.

We locked eyes for a moment.
Then both let out the smallest, breathless laugh.

“I don’t think you realize how terrifying you are.”

“Tryn to butter me up because I had a knife to your throat?”

She shifted over, casually taking a seat beside me like we weren’t just one wrong move from bloodshed. “It wouldn’t be the worst idea I’ve ever had.”

I didn’t laugh, just paused for a beat, letting the tension drip off my shoulders. Then asked honestly, “What's next then, you going to tell everyone?”

“Interesting line of questioning.” She leaned on her arm slightly. “Are you always this distrustful?”

That doesn't answer my question.

“Out here? Yeah.” I looked down at the floor, then added. “It feels like I’m surrounded by looming enemies just waiting for me to fail.”

“Hmmm.” She paused. “Maybe you're just observant.”

“Tryn to tell me something?” I met her gaze.

She didn’t look away. “You didn’t hear it from me.”

I turned away, then nudged her with my elbow. “Full of secrets, huh?”

“Ehh.” She stared off. “If I tell you one, will you trust me?”

“Couldn’t hurt.”

She looked down, contemplative, then paused for a while. “...I hate being a healer.”

“What?” I blinked. “But you’re so good at it.”

“Doesn’t matter. I hate it all the same.” She met my gaze again.

I only nodded, unsure of what to say. The silence lingered for a beat before I spoke again, “Dent’s the brother I never had. He’s the best family I've got, and I can’t lose him.”

“I get that.” She hugged me loosely.

I paused for a long moment, chest tightening. “Lyssa… ”

“...yes.” She tilted her head, watching me carefully.

“...I thought about ending your life a minute ago, and I’m sorry.”

She didn’t flinch, just met my eyes.“Why didn't you?”

“Because Dent would never be able to live with that…” I thought for a long second. “…and I'm realizing more and more, that I can't live that way either.”

She only responded, “...Remy.”

“Yes?”

“You can trust me. I won't tell anyone about this. I promise.”

However stupid it may have been, in that moment, I chose to believe her.

A small lump formed in my throat as my shoulder leaned into her. “Thank you.”

Floor 1: Chapter Twenty One - Adaptation