The fleshy passageway quivered, contracting and expanding like it was an artery. It couldn’t be, of course, since it was empty besides me, and not full of blood. The further I went, however, the more I could no longer convince myself that it was a trick of the dim root-light. The Omphalos was alive - or something close to alive.

I had my Drows, a pocket full of nails, a slingshot, 6 shots - 7 if you counted the pommel, Naomi’s staff, the ring, and about a dozen bottles of the anti-mana concoction. Two spells - ignite, and melt.

People always repeat that saying about “when all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.” But they say it like it’s a problem. Like it’s bad to start hammering everything, bad to use the tool you’re familiar with, bad to play to your strengths. If all you have is a hammer, then you have to treat everything like a nail. What else could you do?

My tool was fire. Sure, I had other weapons, but it always came down to fire. It wasn’t my choice, but it’s what I had, and I used it. Every time something looked like it could be flammable, like I might be served by burning something, I did it. And it had worked. I had a bag full of firebombs because of my new anti-social habit of lighting things on fire. Back in Berenguer’s manor, it may have all been an illusion - I still didn’t know which bits were real and which weren’t - but I had done the same there. It was ingrained in me now, close to two months training as a magical arsonist.

So that’s why I took a second to shove a nail into the red flesh, and light it. To see if the wall could feel pain.

It did. Or at least, it seemed to. When the fire sprang up around the nail, the wall undulated faster, and the floor quaked, nearly toppling me over as I struggled for balance. A sense of dread fell over me for a moment as the walls contracted further as if they were going to close completely, crushing me in an attempt by the structure to put pressure on its wound.

But the wall wasn’t flammable. The flame died quickly, the walls retreated, and soon the only evidence of my experiment was a little scorch mark about the size of a finger nail.

“Lot’s going the other way,” I muttered to myself, thinking. “And I’m taking a different way out. I suppose I could block Cadoc, but I have no clue where he is, and he could take the other way. So yeah, it should be fine.”

I took a bottle from my pack. While I was at it, I took them all out, uncorking each and putting nails into them one-by-one. I’d have to be careful not to light them by accident - since the magic was done with a thought, I was afraid it would be kind of like when someone tells you not to imagine your mother naked, and so, of course, you do - and just like how the kids at school would always say you’d burn in hell if you imagined your mom naked, I’d be burned by a different fire if I thought about igniting those nails.

But I hadn’t had any screw-ups before, so I really had nothing to worry about. I was just a little on-edge, handling unknown explosives and all. Based on what I had overheard a Talker say before, this wasn’t the first time the potions had exploded. And they didn’t have magic. After that thought, I was very careful handling the potions.

Then I returned all but one, and that one I placed on the ground where the floor touched the wall, although the passage was rounded such that there wasn’t really a clear distinction between the two. The potion laid on the curve.

I pressed further on, leaving the potion at my back. It took some restraint, but I didn’t light it just then. I didn’t want to interrupt the ritual that Lot had mentioned - or at least, not until I was there. Didn’t want them speeding things up, or preparing for a fight. The element of surprise, and firebombs - those were most of my advantages right there. That, and hatred. The Kalamuzi, being something close to animals, were likely incapable of hate. The bear doesn’t hate the hiker that it mauls - it’s just instinct. Eventually, the hunter who hates the bear wins. Eventually.

The passage continued on for some time, and I hoped that the spell didn’t have a maximum range. That was something I had never tested after that initial test from the other side of a hill. I decided I’d try it out in the future, once I was out of that hole, but for now, I figured I’d play it safe. Just before the mouth of the exit, I’d set down another one.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

I noticed a pale light up ahead, and knew I was nearly there. The light was almost too bright, and I thought for a moment I had accidentally made my way to the surface somehow.

Instead, the passage ended and revealed a wide, round chamber, like the abyss itself on a smaller scale, and I couldn't tell where the light was coming from. I was looking down from above, on top of a walkway that spiraled along the outer wall down to the floor. It was made of the same flesh-bone-wood-junk mixture that everything else was. I peeked over the edge.

It was nearly the last thing I had expected to see. I had expected a big floating orb or something, the Kalamuzi dancing around it like some tribal bonfire, and Naomi and Amaia roasting over a spit, or something.

But the scene was yellow. Gold, rather, and silver, and all matter of sparkling jewels, as well as most other valuable things you could imagine - I thought I could make out a painting in a wooden frame, and silk clothes. The floor was absolutely covered by treasures such that I could not see the red flesh beneath, and the pile rose like a pyramid in the center on the room. That is not to say that there wasn’t any flesh at all - as I peered, I began to make out strands of red running through. But the Kalamuzi stood on a floor of gold.

There were dozens of them. They had formed a ring around the pyramid. About two-thirds of them were holding something in their hands, and though it was hard to make out, they seemed to be mostly jewelry - a large necklace, a golden statuette. But some held things I couldn’t make out. The other third were empty handed, and they were all grouped together. If the circle was laid out like a clock, the section from just past 6 until 10 held nothing. I was in line with 6. Just before 6, I saw a cage of bone. Inside it were two women. Amaia and Naomi. I’d found them. They were awake, and alive.

Before I could think about that too much, my attention was drawn by the screeching of a Kalamuzi. This one was dressed in an elaborate outfit made of bones, which spread out from behind his head like a skeletal halo. Some of the others wore similar bone-outfits, but his was the largest and most elaborate. He, unlike the others, walked around, spreading his arms, waving around a little scepter. It seemed like he was screeching some sort of speech, but of course, I could not understand it. He looked to be a Talker, but he wasn’t using that skill at the moment.

He stood around the 10 hour mark, just before a Kalamuzi holding what looked like a little dog the size of a chihuahua, but with ears like a rabbit and covered in white fur. It was alive, but clearly weak. Perhaps it had been poisoned in some way, as well.

Then the head priest - I assumed that’s what the Kalamuzi with the headdress was - swung his scepter violently in the direction of the pile, shouting something. Acting apparently on cue, the Kalamuzi he stood beside proceeded to toss the little dog-rabbit-thing into the pile.

The dog-rabbit made a little yipping noise as it flew, but landed on its feet. It barked twice, then tried to make a run for it, now freed from the Kalamuzi holding it. It didn’t get far.

I hardly saw the flash of movement - I hadn’t been expecting it, didn’t know what to look for. It seemed to shoot down from the peak of the pile - something whitish. All I saw was a streak which flew at the dog-rabbit, struck the animal’s head, and knocked it out. The creature let out one final and pitiful noise as it collapsed.

Then the treasure beside it began to shift, and a small rift formed as it parted, as if the gold coins and silver chalices had a mind of their own. Something sinister slithered out of it. The Kalamuzi watched in silence as the dog, lying there on the bed of gold, breathing faintly, was grabbed by a human-like hand made of bright red flesh. The hand seized the animal and pulled, dragging it into the gap. In a moment, it was gone.

The priest broke the silence. He kneeled before the pile, hands raised high, head down. He said something unintelligible - in a voice that sounded almost pleading - then fell back into silence. The room was still for a long time.

Then the treasure shifted again. Something emerged, something different. It walked on four legs, and for a brief moment I thought it was the animal, somehow alive, covered in blood, like somehow it had bit and clawed its way back to freedom.

But it was a rat. A disgusting skinless rat, but with patches of white fur, and long rabbit ears. It was the animal from before, I was sure, but changed. Twisted. I saw that it had a tendril running from its foot down into the pile. The flesh-rat hissed.

The Kalamuzi erupted in cheers. Their cheers sound in no way cheerful, and a chill ran down my spine.

Then the rat-thing dissolved. It seemed to simply melt away, back into the pile below.

When the cheering died down, the head priest walked over to the next Kalamuzi in line, going clockwise. This one held an intricately carved bow. The priest began his speech again.

I looked again at where I had seen Amaia and Naomi, the cage of bone. They were close to naked, both wrapped in filthy rags. Amaia stood in a corner of the cage, arms crossed, turned away from me, towards the pile. Naomi, on the other hand, was pacing, looking in every direction, her lips moving like she was muttering to herself, under her breath.

She happened to glance up, just then, and our eyes met. Her eyebrows scrunched together at first, confused - probably at the Kalamuzi head I realized I hadn’t yet taken off - and then recognition hit her, and her eyes widened. I put a finger to my lips, and then nodded. Her dirty face lit up. She turned, said something to Amaia.

Amaia was smart enough not to look just then, but they must have attracted some attention either way. The Kalamuzi beside them held a leather whip, and he swung it deftly between the bars and struck Naomi, who I could see even from this distance bit back a yelp of pain.

I couldn’t help but notice that the Kalamuzi with them was using a weapon made of a material besides metal. I hoped that was more than an accident, that perhaps they had been unable to drug Amaia, or both of them, or that the potion had worn off, or perhaps the potion doesn’t work so well on mages in the Second Circle. If I could get them out first, perhaps Amaia could provide backup.

Seeing the whipping, I wanted to rush forward, throw some bombs, kill some Kalamuzi. But I stayed where I was, and watched. I needed all the information I could get, and based on the proceedings thus far, I had some time. So I watched, studying, patient like a stalker.