In a dark tunnel, three women and two men are hastily rushing forward. They communicate in hushed whispers, afraid of any possible encounter around the many corners. Water is dripping from the moist walls and ceiling, and many layers of tunnels and soil above them, a storm ravages the grey landscape. Dark figures can be seen in and around the many cracks in the ground or the ruins of an old civilization.

Still, underground, the five rush deeper and deeper. The person in the back, a stocky man named Erick, looks behind him as screams and howls echo through the hallways. His face is pale, marked by despair. The woman in front, however, seems grim, but determined. Her name is Mathilda, a tall woman in her late thirties. She used to be a court wizard in lands far to the south. The other four were also wizards, albeit not of her calibre. When their ship was captured, most were slaughtered, while the rest was put to work as slaves until they too would die. She knew that escape from this place is impossible, thus she thought of a plan. It was a plan that would allow her and her companions to live on in some way.

As Mathilda studies the surroundings, Erick is becoming impatient. The others are also feeling anxious, but say nothing. Finally, their leader seems to have recognized a faded magic symbol in one of the passages. As she leads them further down, Erick asks the question that has been bothering him for days now:

“Are you certain this will work? Your whole assumption is that the theory will work, Mathilda. This is madness!”

His other companions hush him, and Mathilda seemingly ignores him, until she whispers back:

“Nothing is certain. Only that we have limited time and then we are gone.”

Finally, they arrive at an open door, made from massive iron. The door is littered with crude magical symbols, sending shivers down Erick’s back. He follows closely behind the rest. They already lit two torches and a tall cavern becomes visible. The air is damp inside and it smells horrible. In the back is pool of mud, the target of their operation. The five of them advance slowly towards the pool, sidestepping cracked skulls and loose stones. A bubble on the surface breaks, sending forth the odour of rot and decay. Erick swallows his upcoming vomit and looks closer. In the muddy waters a large figure can be seen, hanging in suspension.

He can hear the breathing of the others choking, everyone wishing the thing inside to stay asleep, at least until after they were done. At the sign of Mathilda, the group starts to gather their magic, necessary for this improvised ritual.

*

Two days ago, in their slave quarters, they had discussed this plan. They all agreed, not because it was a good plan, but there was nothing else. Once you enter a demonic stronghold, there is no escaping. At least, none have managed to do so in the last few thousand years.

Of course, it was Mathilda who devised everything. She is a strong and talented woman, who until recently was bound to become one of the most important wizards in the country.

When she called them over, they were all tired from their work. They were hoping to catch some sleep, even though the next day would bring more of the same. Her idea was simple; the execution would be difficult at best. Erick was quite shocked when she told him that if humans cannot leave the stronghold, then we must become demons. Literally, this is impossible, but there was an option, she said.

“We know their breeding pits are somewhere below the ground. We need to find one of their species in the last stages of ‘creation’. There, and then, we shall infuse our humanity, character, and some of our wishes into it. It might fight its own kind or leave this place. Perhaps, even, tell our countrymen what happened to us. This is the best we can do, before we collapse from exhaustion or get eaten alive.”

They found the entrance to the underground, which was poorly guarded. Yesterday, one of the women identified this room as a breeding pit of a Barh’groth. This creature is a living nightmare, a servant of the new gods, and, when fully mature, capable of destroying small armies.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

*

At this point, Mathilda starts producing magical symbols in complex arrays. Many of the symbols are unknown to the rest, but they only need to add their own small part to support the spell. The air is humming softly and the magic spreads a warm light. They are sweating now, their faces covered with looks of concentration. Erick, finishes his part and careful pushes it towards the larger spell that is hovering in the middle of the cave. Looking around, the pool seems to be bubbling more, disturbed by the flow of magic. The smell becomes worse as Mathilda confirms that the spell is completed. She once more checks every aspect, causing the others to fidget impatiently. They too notice the stirring mud pool and the ominous figure within.

Finally, Mathilda seems content and sends the spell into the pool to envelop the creature. The warm magical light is absorbed slowly, and soon the torches are the only source of light again. Everyone is exhausted and Mathilda allows for a small break. Congratulating each other, they chat in soft voices. Erick thinks of his home and the few friends and family members he has.

“Do you think that we can pass along messages, if it awakes? Can we talk with it?”

The others look curious as well, prompting Mathilda to answer:

“Perhaps, depending on how well the spell takes hold...”

She wants to say more, when a claw bursts forth from the pool, ripping her body apart. Astonished, they stare at the bloody lumps plastered on the floor and walls. Erick raises his eyes to see the Barh’groth rising from the pool. Its eyes are yellow with black slits. It is standing hunched, but its head is still 3 metres above the ground. The red thick skin is all covered with black scales, except for the belly, throat and the head, which crudely resembles one of a dragon. Behind its hulking body, a tail starts to swish. The black scales on top of its back and tail form long dark spikes.

As the initial shock is replaced by horror, one of the women screams, before being smashed against the wall by another claw. Erick and the other two run away. Before reaching the door, but one of them is pierced by the Barh’groth’s tail and dragged back into the cavern. The piercing scream of their comrade stops abruptly, but Erick dares not to look back.

His body is tired from his work as a slave, the journey into the breeding pits, and the ritual itself. However, fear gives him the drive to keep running. His boots thump loudly in the tunnels, alerting other creatures. He doesn’t pay them attention; none of them are as terror-inducing as what they have awakened just now.

Finally, in front of him, he can see the grey light streaming in from one of the entrances to the tunnel system. Feeling that escape is close, he relaxes, but that allows him to feel how tired he really is. The thickset man takes a moment to catch his breath. He looks back, but there is no sign of the last companion, a man that was known for his positive and cheerful attitude. Most likely dead, he thought.

Regret washes over him, the prospect of their tale and final fate spreading to the outside world, his old world, was now completely gone. Perhaps, they even created something worse than a regular Barh’groth. Shivering once more at the thought, Erick starts jogging the last part. However, a few steps in front of the exit, he hears a low growl in the tunnel behind him. Looking back, the shape of the monster is visible a few hundred meters back. The Barh’groth lowers itself to stand on all fours. Within a breath, it crosses half the distance.

Erick stands there, shoulders slumped, and sighs. Now, he can only accept his death, which comes swiftly as his skull is crushed.