Vince pushed through the door of the hideout to find the glittering Kaleb and a now standoffish Esme. “I trust preparations are done?” Vince lifted his arms with his palms wide, fingers wiggling like a sorcerer who had just appeared from a puff of smoke.

Kaleb cocked his head, “Your hand has healed quickly.”

Vince retracted his arms and inspected both hands, “Nothing a well-brewed potion can’t fix.”

“Those potions are nonsense,” Kaleb grunted after noting his distrust for Vince.

Esme cleared her throat and stepped forward, “Preparations are made, we are biding our time while the two make it into the tower.”

Vince stroked his chin and nodded with a concerned expression chiselled onto his face, “Indeed, getting those two in will be imperative.”

“I don’t see why you couldn’t fly a few fairies down there.” Kaleb crossed his arms, his armour rattling

“Well, we could have, but how’s such a tiny creature going to pull the lever? It was also important for you to put some of your stock into this skirmish.”

Kaleb shot Esme a disgusted look, “I expected as much from a gang of thieves and brigands.”

Esme sighed, “Vince, your equipment is in the back along with mine, let’s prepare, Kaleb, keep your mind clear.”

“Just be ready, and pray to the Divine you haven’t sent my people to their death.”

“Which way now?” Iridia wished she could look behind her, though in the darkness of the pipes, she would see nothing. “Well?” Iridia shuffled now, her heart sank into her stomach when no response rumbled back. “Morgan!”

“Shush, I am thinking.”

“Thank the heart, I thought we’d split up.”

“No, I wouldn’t lose you down here, I just need a moment,” Morgan repeated the directions many times, while Iridia lay in anticipation. Both were more than ready to get out of this claustrophobic nightmare, whatever waited for them. “Last was a left wasn’t it?”

Iridia closed her eyes, what good it did, thinking, “Yeah, am sure it was.” she could hear Morgan shuffling once more.

“Then it is left once more then straight ahead is our way out.”

Iridia rounded the corner once again, her body was aching from the constant crawling and dragging, she empathised greatly with Morgan who didn’t repair with great speed like her, not a quibble or complaint left his mouth, she thought that perhaps he should have been the one blessed with her gifts.

They clawed their way down the tight tube for what felt like hours, no light in sight, no grate, no turns. Iridia reached forward to pull herself further but touched a smooth stone. In a flurry of panic, she felt around with her palm, slapping it against the wall.

Morgan’s head bumped Iridia’s bum, “Why are we stopping?”

“We can’t continue.”

“We must, we cannot give up now!”

“No Morgan, physically we can’t go ahead, it’s a dead end.”

“Ah…oh, that can’t be, we followed the directions to the letter, I know for a fact.”

“Do you truly?”

“I do, truly.”

Iridia huffed, “Then perhaps we have been tricked by Esme, she has played us for a fool, no doubt we are sealed in from both ends too.”

Morgan pressed his forehead to the stone floor, “It cannot be, she spoke with such truth, Kaleb couldn’t have been pulled in by her charms.”

Iridia closed her eyes, “How do you know? We are stuck down here.”

“I know!”

“You don’t know anything, Morgan!” Iridia’s voice echoed down the pipe and repeated the words carried with the bile that brought them forth.

Morgan was silenced, he felt no urge to respond, instead, he visualised the twists and turns they had made in the tunnels, his mind wracked with a pang of creeping guilt that in his confidence he had erred along the way and led them astray. He lifted his head quickly as an idea came to mind, his skull struck the stone above and dust puffed around his face causing him to cough.

“I think we need to re-tr—”

“Iridia, I have it.”

“Have what?”

“Roll on your back.”

“I hardly think that’ll help.” Her voice had softened, she felt bad for shouting at him and degrading him so, her temper had frayed and she had taken it out on Morgan, it wasn’t the first time, she recalled the time in the camp when she yelled at him for no good reason.

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“Trust me.”

She rolled on her back, it felt comfortable to be off her forearms and chest. “Now what?”

“The stones above, they are loose.”

Iridia pushed up hard with all her might, they wobbled and seemed to give a little. “I can feel them, they are loose, you’re a genius, Morgan!”

“Keep pushing!”

She shoved as hard as she could each time, the stones above wobbling just a bit more, dust filled the air and made it hard to breathe, but there was no time to stop now. A brick fell onto Iridia’s head and busted her nose. “Oof, it’s coming away.” She passed bricks to Morgan as they came down and he worked them over his body and kicked them down the tunnel.

Iridia had pulled ten or so bricks away, and light cut through into the tunnel from between tiles above. “The floor, a floor…I can sit up now.” She sat and pushed the tiles up out of the way, the grout broke away easily and she was able to sit up like an undead creature rising from a tomb, her hair was matted with sweat and covered in dust.

They clambered out and dusted themselves off, happy to be out of the pipe. The room they were in was elegant, the floor, which wasn’t destroyed, was an opal and sapphire tile set, red walls, huge portraits with golden frames and long couches of silk and fur. The room was large and pronounced, yet elegant and private in setting, perhaps a lounge area for a rich noble.

“Is this the right place you think?” Morgan said as he handed Iridia her spear, he checked his weapon and dusted his knees off.

Iridia was taking in her surroundings, pivoting slowly with wide eyes, “Not sure, glad to be out of that tunnel though.” She took up her spear, missing her shield even if it was an irksome character. “Do you smell that?”

Morgan sniffed at the air like a dog beside a butchers, “Yes, smells sweet.”

“It’s sickly…” Iridia added with a crinkled nose, the smell made her stomach turn as it danced down her throat.

“What is it?”

“Not sure.” They spoke in hushed tones, and moved around the room, inspecting some of the tables that had lavish rich people paraphernalia scattered over their surfaces. Gold lamps, gold quills, gold thimbles. “This place is decadent, it surely can’t be Paladin grounds.”

Morgan lifted the cover of a char black book, the engravings shimmered and the first page contained symbols arranged in a semi-circle, the lettering glowed red and seemed to dance out of the page. Morgan's vision was pulled from his sockets and drawn deep into the page, though he stood in place he felt as if he had fallen into a deep sea, the water was ice on his body but he could breathe.

“Who disturbs my slumber?” The voice was ragged and bassy, it scratched at Morgan's brain.

Morgan tried to see what was calling from the void but it only teased its visage with a lick of a tendril and a flash of deep purple. Its size was unfathomable and Morgan was quickly overwhelmed by its presence. He kicked and writhed in the deep cold, fizzing bubbles and provoking the creature closer. Then, he relaxed, calm, he was ready to be taken in by the creature.

“I will ease your passing.”

An armada of tendrils emerged from the blackness, snaking around him with a predatory caution as if readying to strike. Like a fish caught upon a hook, he felt a great tug, up he went for miles at great speed, a speed he didn’t think possible of a mortal. The surface shimmered darkly from the red moon that hung in the black sky.

“Morgan!”

Morgan was lying on his back before the open book, eyes wide and glazed as he came to. “I saw it.”

“Saw what?”

“Great evil, no, I didn’t see it, I felt it, it felt like all was lost, I was so without hope that I wanted to die, I wanted everyone to die and sleep forever.”

Iridia frowned and helped him up, “What did you see?”

“The Demon that lurks in our hearts, the one that infects the roots, poisons the veins and taints the lands, I saw it.”

Iridia knelt beside and brought her arms around Morgan to hold him close, “I am sorry, I am sorry for bringing you, I’m sorry for shouting at you in the tunnel.”

“My lady, don’t think a moment on it.” He closed his eyes and cried softly on her breast, “Your anger comes from pressure, a pressure that I have seen now, you are forgiven for all, I see what Gin-rith saw…the weight of this quest is impossible to bear.”

“Then we shall bear it together.” She kissed the top of his head and they stood up as one.

Morgan wiped his eyes clean and sighed, “This must be the place, we need to find the gate lever, Kaleb needs to get inside.”

Iridia bowed her head in agreement, “Stay by me.”

Morgan drew his sword, “I wouldn’t think to do otherwise.”

Esme and Vince took an aeon to ready, Kaleb had realised they were doing more than just equipping themselves, he could hear their dark whispers and plotting murmurs. He narrowed his eyes as he pictured his revenge, they’d swing in the wind and the crowd would be reminded of what justice looks like and how truth roots out even the deepest evils. Between bouts of seething hatred that bubbled in his gut for Vince and co, a great worry for his neophyte burdened his heart.

Vince emerged first, he was wearing simple armour but for a symbol etched into the breastplate, it’s something Kaleb would have chosen to equip if given the choice, understated yet well crafted.

Esme came next, she was a picture of radiant splendour, her armour was golden, her helmet was angled and fearsome looking with a golden plume that sprouted from the top, and the metal followed her curves as if she’d dipped herself into liquid metal and it hardened around her like a shell.

Kaleb rose, “Esme?”

“Tis I,” she said in that ever most playful tone she adopted when she had earned the element of surprise.

“This armour looks like that of a Paladin, it is built for you too by the look of the fit.”

“Quite the eye!” Her voice echoed from the helmet.

Vince smiled and left the hideout, “Meet you all in the right place.”

“Explain.”

“We have little time.”

“Time enough for this.”

She cocked her head and pushed her steel hip out, “I am a Paladin, or…was.”

“So you’re an oathbreaker?”

“I will tell you more when the time is right.”

Kaleb pulled his helmet on and lifted his hammer, “You give me many reasons to execute you after we are done, Esme…if that is your real name.”

Esme bowed her head, “Indeed, your threats have been a constant.”

“Where is your weapons, oathbreaker?”

Esme held out her hand and a glowing blade formed out of thin air, “Always with me.”

Zale glowed brightly in Kaleb's hand as he was lifted, “That is the weapon of a scion.”

Kaleb looked at the hammer and raised an eyebrow. “You think this oathbreaker is a scion?”

Esme sauntered toward Kaleb, “I am not what you think, I will be there for you if you are there for me.”

“I do not believe you.”

“I’ll prove it when the time comes.” She took Kaleb by the wrist, “Your armour was made by Scions, you can call upon a blade in the wrist, but you must do so when the time is right, for the blade will shatter upon use.

“Not much use then has it?”

Zale buzzed from over Kaleb’s shoulder, “I forgot about that, I never used it myself, I don’t think I did.”

“If you did use it, it’s gone,” Esme added. “The eighth bell will soon ring, we should find our positions alongside Vince.”

They walked out into the darkness together, they drew many looks along their way to the spire bridge, and some even followed along. Whispers bubbled from corners of the city, lanterns illuminated to bring closed shops and sleeping houses alive.

“Let us hope your two were successful, or we shall look rather foolish.”

Kaleb scoffed, “I think the armour does that for us.”