The world was a whirl of haste and chaos. Zeni’s heart hammered in her chest as she and Nightingale dashed up the spiraling staircase, one step, two steps, three steps at a time. The floating platform loomed ahead, a temporary safe haven in the midst of the storm.

Her armored companion bounded over her with a grace that belied his size, landing on the platform with a thud that echoed through the chamber. He turned back to her and pointed to the behemoth gem of radiant energy suspended in the chamber's heart. Zeni nodded, her eyes darting across the labyrinth of platforms and staircases. She’d find a way, she had to.

“I’m on it, big guy!”

Her sandals pounded against the stone as she sprinted across the platform, each stride propelling her closer. Gasping, her lungs screaming for oxygen, she pushed herself to go faster. She could hear the creatures now, screeches and snarls filling the air with a primal dread.

As she reached the first step she turned back, and that was when she saw them. The sight was enough to freeze her blood.

They were monstrous aberrations, a nightmare of teeth and claws and scales, each with twisted, dark bodies the size of a large dog. They swarmed and crawled over one another, a tidal wave of grotesque bodies racing up the platform and crowing the nearest chamber wall. Their eyes glowed with a hunger that promised pain and death.

Nighty—she’d shortened it—stood in the center of the platform, a solitary figure amidst the oncoming horde. He dropped his pack to the ground with a booming clatter. She saw him square his shoulders, the intimidating outline of his armor gleaming in the gem’s light.

Then, the creatures were upon him.

Nighty moved like a whirlwind, his armored fists smashing through the monstrous horde with a brutality that was awe-inspiring. Each blow sent bodies flying, each kick shattered bone and scale. It was a display of raw power, a dance of death that tore through the enemy ranks. Zeni watched, wide-eyed, as the armored man became a one-man army, carving through the creatures with a fervor that reminded her of the cinematic scene where Sauron single-handedly carved through the opposing enemies at the beginning of Fellowship of the Ring.

A chuckle escaped her, a single note of mirth in the face of overwhelming odds.

"Who knew he had such dark lord vibes," she muttered to herself.

With a renewed sense of purpose, she turned and bolted up the stairs, the path to the gem in sight but still far off.

—

Tarek, Amara, and Faris stood shoulder to shoulder, facing off against the woman before them. She was an imposing figure, her presence seemingly filling the room. Her hair was short, her arms muscular, and her grin was smug and confident. The cudgel she held was almost as tall as she was, and she wielded it with a casual ease that was as alarming as it was impressive.

“Begging your beautiful pardon,” Tarek said. “But just who are you?”

He was a charming presence, even in the face of danger, his genial nature often disarming their foes.

The woman released a cruel laugh.

“I am Bearer of the Shadowed Chains, the Herald of the Sunless One, and this,” she gestured grandly around her, “is our dungeon.”

The word ‘our’ hung in the air, a promise of danger yet to come.

“And who exactly is 'our,’ if’n you don’t mind my asking?” Tarek continued, his voice steady despite the growing tension.

“Why, the Heart of the Underpharaoh, of course,” the woman replied, her grin widening.

The name sent a chill down their spines. The Underpharaoh was a figure of mystery, said by some to be only a myth, and others described him as a creature of darkness whispered about in hushed tones. They had heard the name before, not many hadn’t, but knew little about what it truly represented.

Tarek and Amara exchanged a glance, an unspoken conversation passing between them. Faris simply watched the exchange with narrowed eyes.

“Apologies, now. We didn’t know this dungeon was spoken for,” Tarek said, trying to diffuse the situation with a bit of humor. “We found it, so we figured we’d explore it.”

Amara, always the more direct of the two, cut straight to the point.

“What does the Underpharaoh want? What does this have to do with him?”

The woman laughed again, a sound that was starting to grate on their nerves.

“Oh, you have no idea, do you? The Underpharaoh is not just a name or a title. He’s the Sunless One, a force, a power that seeks to reshape this world in his image. And we, the Heart of the Underpharaoh, his loyal servants, will help him achieve his glorious vision.”

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Her words had the fervor of a fanatic, her eyes glowed with an unhinged devotion that set their teeth on edge. Just as Amara was winding up another question, she stopped. From the shadows behind the tall woman, more shapes emerged.

—

Zeni had made considerable headway, ascending two more of the floating platforms. The nightmarish creatures, attracted like moths to Nightingale's deadly luminescence, had largely left her alone. There had been a few, of course, eager for a taste of her flame. They met their end in the searing heat of her Ignition of Ra, their monstrous forms reduced to charred husks that crumbled to dust.

Pausing at the edge of a platform to catch her breath, she risked a glance back. A gasp escaped her lips as she took in the scene below. Nightingale was a titan in the midst of a sea of horrors. A towering mound of creature corpses surrounded him, the product of his relentless onslaught. The wall of bodies was growing taller by the second, reaching up to his armored thighs. Even as she watched, more of the creatures raced towards him, eager to join their fallen brethren.

"Nighty, you've gotta get outta there!" she yelled, her voice echoing across the vast chamber.

The armored figure paused, his gaze flicking up to meet hers. A creature lunged at him in that brief moment of distraction, only to meet a swift end as Nightingale's fist slammed into it, sending it crashing back into the horde.

For the first time, it seemed, Nightingale took stock of his situation. He looked down at the pile of bodies, then back up at Zeni. He dropped to a crouch, his hands digging into the morass of carcasses beneath him. Then, with a mighty heave, he wrenched upward, sending a shower of bodies soaring through the air. Zeni barely had time to leap aside as one of the airborne carcasses splattered onto her platform.

Nightingale continued his rampage, plowing through the throng of monsters like a farmer turning over soil. It was an awe-inspiring, albeit gruesome spectacle. The silence that followed was deafening. The silence was broken by a hissing growl. One of the creatures was charging at her, its eyes blazing with a vicious hunger. Zeni reacted instinctively, casting the Wither Curse on its front legs. Normally, the curse would slowly drain the strength from its target, but as she cast it, she felt the Ka surge within her, its taint seeping into the spell. The creature's front legs didn't just weaken; they disintegrated entirely. It tumbled over the edge of the platform, its pitiful shriek echoing as it plummeted down to splatter onto the first platform below.

The chamber fell silent. The swarm of monsters froze, their attention drawn to their fallen comrade. Then, in unison, they turned their gaze upwards, their eyes settling on Zeni. For a moment, all was still. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the swarm began to move. Not towards Nightingale, but toward the stairs. Toward her.

"Well, shit," Zeni murmured, realizing the gravity of the situation. "I guess it's my turn." And with a resigned sigh, she began to run.

—

In the cavernous chamber, the water churned and roiled beneath them, lapping against the stone with a deceptive softness. The room was slowly filling, the threat of a watery grave looming over the combatants. And amidst the chaos, the Rahhalah and the newly arrived members of the Heart of the Underpharaoh clashed in a swirling vortex of violence and power.

Tarek, stocky and solid as an ancient oak, faced off against Bearer of the Shadowed Chains. The woman towered over him, her hand wrapped around the cudgel that looked as if it could pulverize stone. But Tarek was far from intimidated.

In his hands, his massive sword sang a song of defiance, its blade shimmering with the promise of resistance. He met each of the Bearer's thunderous strikes with a parry that sent sparks flying, his muscular frame absorbing the shock. His laughter echoed in the chamber, a wild, exultant sound.

"It’s a pity that’s all you’ve got to offer!" he taunted, grinning fiercely as he swung back, his blade leaving a trail of silver in the air.

Amara was a tempest, her elemental Ka unfurling around her like a cyclone. She soared through the air, her movements fluid and graceful, as she faced off against Scarrion the Mimic and Hassu the Stone Warden. Scarrion shifted constantly, his fshape flickering and changing, trying to disorient her.

"Are you so ashamed of your own form?" the woman spat, her voice ringing out as she conjured a Gasp of the Sky, sending Scarrion tumbling back with the powerful gale of wind. But as he fell, Hassu stepped forward, his body a fortress of stone. He raised his hand, and the very ground seemed to respond, stone spikes erupting from the floor towards Amara. With a flick of her wrist, she invoked an alternate aspect of Gasp of the Sky, and a barrier of wind formed around her, shattering the stone into harmless pebbles.

Across the room, Faris was a silent specter, his eyes fixed on Isha the Mind Weaver. She was elusive, a wraith slipping in and out of the shadows, her mind tricks creating illusions that could fool even the sharpest eyes. But Faris was not ordinary, his focus honed to a razor's edge.

His bowstring twanged, the sound sharp and clear above the chaos. An arrow, its tip glowing with Ka, flew straight towards where Isha had just appeared. But she was not there, her figure shimmering and fading like a mirage. Faris didn't falter, his next arrow already nocked, his gaze unwavering. He couldn’t tell if she was merely that capable with illusions, or if she had a Transport Ka ability, but it didn’t matter. He knew that eventually, she’d wan in power and that’s when he would get her.

However, even as the orange-haired woman blinked in and out of existence, her voice echoed through the chamber, a haunting melody that played on the nerves.

"Oh, how quaint," she teased, her tone mocking. "You think you can resist us. The Heart of the Underpharaoh? You're mice, believing you can stand against lions."

Hassu the Stone Warden grunted in agreement, his voice rough as gravel.

"We are the purpose of the Sunless One," he intoned, his eyes glinting with an almost religious fervor. "His will is our command, his power, our birthright."

As Hassu manipulated the earth, stone pillars rising from the water to block Amara's escape, Scarrion the Mimic chuckled. His laughter was an eerie echo, a sound that shifted and changed as he did.

"What fun," he cackled, his form blurring as he took on the appearance of Amara herself, her own voice ringing back at her. "A dance of death, my dear, and I'm leading."

But it was Bearer of the Shadowed Chains who finalized their oaths, her voice as hard and unyielding as the iron of her cudgel.

"You have stepped into our domain," she warned Tarek, meeting his fierce grin with a chillingly cold stare. "We are the Heart of the Underpharaoh. We are his chosen warriors, the bearers of his divine power. You will not defeat us."

Despite the dire words and the intensity of the fight, the Rahhalah were not swayed. Tarek laughed outright at Bearer's words, his large frame shaking with mirth.

"That's a cute group motto you’ve all memorized," he shot back, his voice booming over the sound of clashing metal and surging water. "We’ve got one of our own."

Amara's response was a swirling tempest of Ka, her voice rising over the gale she created.

“To the hells with you!" she shouted defiantly, staring Hassu and Scarrion down.

And Faris, silent and focused, let his arrows speak for him. One after another, they flew, streaks of light aimed at Isha. His quiet determination was his answer, his steadfast will his unspoken challenge.

However, with a shared glance between the members of the Heart of the Underpharaoh, a new strategy began to unfold. Bearer of the Shadowed Chains launched herself at Tarek, using her iron cudgel to drive him back towards Amara. Her movements were calculated, each blow aimed to suggest him into the right direction.

Meanwhile, Hassu the Stone Warden, manipulated the earth beneath the water, shifting the ground beneath Amara's feet and, now that her flying ability was momentarily exhausted, forced her to retreat closer to Tarek. At the same time, his stone walls rose up, narrowing their battleground and further directing their movement.

Scarrion the Mimic took on Faris's form, but rather than attacking him, he began to lead him on a chase, darting in and out of the shadowed corners of the room. The arrows that Faris fired followed Scarrion, pulling him closer to the others until they were all corralled together in the center of the room.

That was when Isha the Mind Weaver, stepped in. Her Ka was a silvery wisp that curled around them, a subtle pressure against their minds that made their bodies stiffen. They struggled against the power, but it was like trying to move through a wall of molasses.

"Time for a change of scenery," she sang out, her hands sweeping through the air as she created portals around each of them. Before they could react, they were forcibly pulled into the swirling vortexes, their forms disappearing in a blink.

Once the room was empty, save for the four members of the Heart of the Underpharaoh, Bearer turned to Isha.

"Where did you send them?" she asked.

Isha's response was a smug grin.

"I thought it was unfair that we got to have all the fun," she stated, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "So I sent them to our siblings. They'll take care of them."

There was a pause, and then she continued, her voice growing serious.

"Besides, we have a greater duty at hand. We must not forget our true purpose."