Mirzayael stabs forward as I step back, diving into the Dungeon Core’s interface to access the throne room’s spell circuit. It takes me three seconds to find what I need.

I grab the spell lines powering the lights in this chamber, and I snuff them out.

The room plunges into darkness.

Well, near darkness. The Fortress itself is still lit, and the distant light from all its streets and halls reaches us like the glow of a cityscape. Even so, it’s extremely dark, and the sudden absence of a well-lit space takes time to adjust to. Some adjust faster than others.

Mirzayael, like all arachnoids, has low-light vision. Felis, like Nek, also have this. So do dracid and dwarves. Harpies don’t, but I’m the only harpy in this hall. And unless the human Jorrians are significantly different from humans on Earth, I’m willing to bet they don’t have low-light vision either.

A startled cry is raised when the lights go out, quickly followed by cries of pain and death. I peer keenly into the darkness, waiting for flickers of movement to resolve into recognizable shapes. The moment I can start to tell what I’m seeing, the same is likely true for the humans.

While I wait these handful of long, excruciating seconds, a mental ping zaps through my mind. I double check with the Dungeon Core to be sure.

The Fortress is ready to activate.

Snapping back to the battle, I realize I can see far too much of my surroundings. I slowly begin to raise the lights, knowing an abrupt flash would hurt my allies more than my enemies.

The surprise darkness had the effect I’d intended. The Jorrian troops fell back, pressed together in tight-knit groups as they attempted to fend off their unseen foes. More dead and wounded lay scattered across the floor, though not all of them are Jorrian. I wince at the loss, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. We need to press the advantage while we have it.

Mirzayael has Alis on the defensive, wielding her own staff against her. I grin at the loop of silk wrapped around the Jorrian’s weapon; she must have snagged it while the lights were out. I wish I’d been able to see it. Now that there’s enough light to see by, Biorne attempts to join the fight and shield his sister, but I don’t give him the opportunity.

I launch a Fireball at Biorne, and it crashes into his shield. The fire splashes harmless away to either side, but I’ve got his attention. He roots himself in place, raising his shield as I hit him with another attack. Wordlessly, Mirzayael drives Alis away, separating the two Jorrians.

“That was a clever attempt,” Biorne shouts around his shield. He steps toward me, and I’m forced to retreat a step back, carefully rationing my mana. “But it won’t be enough. We’ve already regrouped. It’s only a matter of time before this battle is over.”

As he says the last word, his shield glows white, and a wall of ice rolls from the weapon and toward me. I sidestep the attack, calling on the Dungeon Core this time. Spears of stone stab up from the floor, shattering the ice. At the same time I send more to stab at Biorne from behind, but he rolls out of the way, and closer to the battle—close to other Fyrethians. I stop the Core from pursuing him further.

“That’s one opinion,” I reply. “I have evidence to suggest otherwise.”

“You don’t understand,” Biorne snarls, slamming his shield into the ground. As it impacts, several daggers of ice launch from the blue stone embedded in its center. I meet them with a flash of fire, the attacks turning to steam between us. “There doesn’t need to be this bloodshed. If you would just return underground, if you would hide yourselves away, my people would not see you as a threat. But if you continue to make yourselves known, if you continue to fight, we’ll have no choice but to attack. And if you continue to fight back, we will be forced to wipe you out.”

Anger and indignation flare within me at his words. I launch a Fireball in kind, which roars around him as he braces against my wrath. “Subjugate yourselves, or die? What choice is that? What people could possibly rationalize this stance to themselves? What god would endorse such hate?”

“It’s not hate—it’s protection!” Biorne says. “Lorata’s will is sacred. She would not have ordered such drastic measures if the fate of the world didn’t hang in the balance. You Forsaken, you made your choice to stand against her. To stand against all of us.”

“What choice?” I demand. “Being born into the Forsaken’s ranks is enough to condemn us?”

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“The choice to continue perpetuating Fyreneth’s blasphemy,” Biorne says. “If you refuse to acknowledge the error of your ways and repent for it, you will be exterminated. We will not stop until the threat of every last one of you is neutralized.”

“Oh really?” I say. “Then I guess we’ll just have to neutralize you first.”

A stir is going through the troops at the back of the cavern, voices raised. Biorne risks a glance in the direction, then grins.

“Make your threats all you like, but the outcome is already decided.” Biorne jerks his head toward the back of the chamber. “Our reinforcements have arrived.”

I launch a Fireball at Biorne while he’s talking, hoping the distraction would provide an opening, but he merely deflects the attacks. Using the Dungeon Core to draw a chasm between us, I momentarily retreat, allowing myself to glance at the disruption Biorne had indicated.

He’s right. More Jorrian troops are pouring into the cavern, and they clearly outnumber us. But what I also notice are the troops fleeing before the Jorrians: Nek and several troops of Fyrethian guards, all retreating toward the Fortress.

I have to make myself hide my grin, even as Biorne gloats in victory. I don’t need to stall any longer.

“Fall back!” I shout. “Retreat to the Fortress! Clear a path, and get inside the walls!”

“You see?” Biorne shouts. “I warned you that it should come—”

A blood-curdling scream shakes Biorne out of speech. Nearby, Mirzayael has Alis pinned to the ground with her own staff. In her other hand she holds her spear, which has been stabbed through the human’s abdomen.

“No!” Biorne cries, his voice cracking with terror. “Alis!”

Biorne lunges for Mirzayael, screaming in rage. Mirzayael looks up as a shadow falls over them both.

One moment, Biorne is raising his shield, its surface glowing and pointed toward Mirzayael.

The next moment, he’s inside Ollie’s mouth.

The moment after that, he’s gone.

“OOPS,” Ollie says, tip-toeing over the battle ground in a futile attempt to avoid stepping on bodies. “I FORGOT I WASN’T SUPPOSED TO EAT PEOPLE.”

“I think this one can be considered an exception,” I say, hurrying over to Mirzayael’s side. “He wasn’t much of a person, anyway.”

Mirzayael pulls her weapon from Alis’s body. “Their leaders are defeated,” she says, panting from the fight. “We have secured our vengeance.” She turns to face the new Jorrian troops who have arrived.

“No,” I say, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. “The Fortress is ready. We need to get inside the walls.”

Surprise flickers in her eyes. “Now?”

I nod.

“Ollie, I need your help,” I call to him telepathically, given the din of battle.

His head swings in my direction, and I feel a burst of happiness and pride from him at me asking for his help. “WHAT IS IT?”

“I need you to make sure all the Fyrethians make it through the gates,” I tell him. “Some might be hurt or get caught behind enemy lines. Only you can help get them out of there.”

This is met with a swell of protectiveness. “I WON’T LEAVE ANYONE BEHIND,” Ollie promises.

“Thank you,” I tell him, mentally sharing my own pride I feel for him. “I believe you.”

Without their Commanders, the Jorrians are hesitating, some continuing the attack, while others set up lines as if in preparation for a longer siege.

“We can begin at any moment,” I tell Mirzayael. “As long as you can confirm all your guards have made it back.”

“One moment. Nek!” she calls.

Nek turns and catches sight of us as his group continues to flee the approaching Jorrians. Ollie stomps a foot and roars at them, which is extremely successful in stopping the troops from pursuing.

Nek is gasping for breath when he reaches us. Blood has matted the fur on his left arm, and a white, silken spider is sitting on his shoulder.

“Captain. We received your message,” he says between breaths. “That’s all of us.”

“Well done, Lieutenant.” She jerks her head toward the city gates. “Get inside. I’ll help the stragglers.”

“But,” he gasps.

“Now!”

Nek gives the two of us a worried look, but it’s clear he’s in no shape to continue fighting. With clear reluctance, he says, “Yes, Captain,” and limps for the gates.

Mirzayael turns to me. “You should get inside, too. I’ll remain out here until everyone is inside. Is there anything else you need?”

I tap on the Dungeon Core’s consciousness. Ready?

The Dungeon Core radiates excitement. Its elation is so intense, it almost borders on hysteria. It is ready. It is very ready! Is it time to get all that mana now? Oh, how it has been waiting for all that mana! It has become so vast and powerful. And now it has a proper lair! With mana ore! And once it has all that mana—

“I would appreciate it if you could guard my body,” I reply to Mirzayael, unnecessarily raising my voice over the Core’s mental frenzy. “I might be distracted while I’m running things.”

That wheedles a frown of concern out of her. “Be careful.”

“I will,” I promise. “It’s just a precaution while my attention is elsewhere. I doubt there will be any—”

I never get to finish that thought. While I was talking with Mirzayael, I had just turned over access of all our mana stores to the Dungeon Core, which it greedily accepted.

My plan had been to wait until everyone was safely inside the walls of Fyreneth’s Fortress. In the meantime, I intended to set off the initiation sequence for the Fortress’s awakening. And the Dungeon Core did just that.

What I hadn’t anticipated was that I’d get pulled along with it.

The moment it taps into our mana stores, I’m caught in a flood of magic. It’s not like being swept downstream in a river. This is something much more primordial. Something cosmological. Like a steep depression in spacetime, and I’m slipping inevitably down its gravity well.

The Dungeon Core’s influence suffuses the kingdom, seeping into every stone and circuit, every pebble and wall. It becomes the Fortress.

As the Dungeon Core’s power becomes more concentrated, my mind is whisked away into the stone. I’m only distantly aware as my body collapses to the ground.

Then, slowly, the Fortress comes alive.