Fire burns along the path of the corridor, slashing the walls with shadows. Cathra is dragged across the rough floor, her arms and legs bound by rope. Every bump makes her hiss in pain. Her stomach is a mess of raw flesh, trailing a line of blood after her. But Cathra has been through worse.

Breathe, she tells herself. Keep breathing. And find a way out.

The stone steps slash into her ribs. Cathra screams and twists but the men keep dragging her by her hands, pulling her along like a sack of flour. From somewhere outside her vision, Cathra hears Ae'ran's similar cries of distress.

“Stop, this - Ow! This is barbaric! Ow! Friend, are you there?”

Cathra doesn’t answer. She’s clamped her mouth shut to try and contain the screams.

Finally, they get to the bottom. Cathra lets out a groan of relief, and a second later, a crash behind her tells her that Ae'ran has cleared the last step too.

“Your forefathers will be ashamed to see you people like this!” The yaojin yells. “Friend, are you alright?”

“Save your breath,” Cathra calls back, embarrassed at how her own voice shakes. “They’re not… human anymore. Not exactly.”

As if to answer her, Cathra's stomach spikes her with pain. She draws her knees to her chest, wanting to crawl into a hole and die. She’s had flesh wounds before, many in fact, but this one is different.

It's worse, by a long shot.

Cathra's entire body burns. She can hear her heart beating in her ears, the heavy thump-thump of a struggling lifeline. And as her consciousness starts fading, she remembers something she learned way back when she was just a kid.

It was this:

Human spit can be just as deadly as a snake's poison.

Her father had taught her that. And Cathra can still remember the way he said it, too. Like it was a hidden blade to be used when least expected.

If you've got nothing left, Daughter, bite 'em. At first it won't do much, then disease will get 'em.

They stop by the iron door. The familiar sound of the screaming hinges brings Cathra from her daze.

A putrid gust of wind races out, hot against her raw wounds.

The portal’s pull is intense and immediate. Cathra is dragged into the room. She doesn't fight.

Even though it hasn’t been very long since she left it, the barrier looks somehow different to Cathra. More vines have stretched out from the other side, grasping like claws into anything they touch. They do not emit any light though, and the only source of illumination seems to be the void itself.

It glows purple. And black. And a hundred different colors all at once.

Maria says, “Get them in position.” And Cathra is pulled up, dragged a few feet closer to the portal, then forced to kneel in front of it.

A moment of scruffling later, Ae’ran joins her side.

“W-what in the three realms is this place?” the yaojin asks, his voice coming out a hoarse whisper. “What are they going to do to us?”

“I hope it’s to make us watch a dance,” Cathra jokes, trying to give Ae’ran a reassuring smile. She's glad to see him relatively unharmed. Forget the fact that she originally took him as a hostage, or that she'd planned on feeding him to whatever hungry monster may be lurking in the tunnels. The truth is they both saved the other at least once, and that counts as something.

Her lame joke seems to work. Ae'ran looks at her for only a moment before grinning back. “If we're supposed to be their spectators, then they’ve faced us the wrong way.”

“Silence,” Maria commands in a voice that’s not quite right. She sounds like she’s trying to speak through a mouthful of saliva. Cathra dares a glance back. To her horror, she sees that the woman’s face is a twisted version of what it is before. Throbbing veins run under her face, darker even than her skin. Her eyes have gone milky, their pupils lost in watery blankness. When the creature opens her mouth to speak, mucus and blood dribble over her cracked lips, down her chin, plopping to the ground in wet smack, smacks.

“Nranhana bless us,” Ae’ran whispers. He’s looking at the commander of the Wall as well, his horrified expression a mirror of Cathra's. “Sharn be with us.”

“We begin,” says Maria. Smack. Smack. At her command, the men around her lower their weapons to the floor and take up positions around the room. There are six of them in total, four standing in each corner and two on either side of the portal. They stand like lifeless dolls, the flesh of their bodies sagging as if all the muscle underneath has wasted away.

And then, inexplicably, they start to dance.

Cathra does not believe her eyes. The men are pounding their chests, their fists ringing hollow against flabby flesh.

Thud. Thud.

In the middle of the room, directly behind Cathra and Ae’ran, Maria is facing the ceiling with her arms held above her. Guttural cries come from deep within her throat, their meanings lost to Cathra and, from the look on Ae’ran’s face, him too. But Cathra isn’t really listening. She’s watching the men move, calculating the best path through.

“Our ancient gods of Arcadia! Here the words of your loyal proprietors!”

Maria’s voice grows louder. She sways like a reed in the wind, throwing her hands and spit everywhere as she continues to chant.

“Hear us, hear us hear us hearsheuss…”

Her words tumble over each other, streaming through a single unending breath.

“Forthefutureofmankindisinthestars… forthehopeofsurvivalisuptous…”

After another stream of words, Maria pauses to breathe. Even corrupted into a monster, her anatomy is still bound by human law.

Cathra strikes. She hops onto the balls of her feet and launches herself towards the portal, shouldering into one of the men. They both topple back, the man's feet tripping over each other in an uncoordinated dance as he crashes into the portal wall.

The barrier blazes to life. Ragged tendrils erupt from the swirling darkness, latching onto the man. Cathra rolls away, the closest tendril a breath away from her own skin. She gets up in time to see the man disappearing into the abyss inside the portal.

He uttered no sounds.

The dancers all stop moving. Five faces turn to stare at Cathra.

Maria screams, “Control her!”

And they all pick up their weapons and start to move.

The first man comes stumbling. Cathra rolls over the sword left by the disappeared man, picks it up with her teeth, and jerks her head sideways as the man staggers close.

Steel bites through cloth, then flesh and bone.

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The man falls without one leg short, but not before grabbing onto Cathra’s braid. She’s yanked back painfully, seeing stars. She looks up to see another hand coming for her, but it's shoved aside by Ae'ran as he collides with the man, sending them both tumbling.

"Get going!" Ae'ran shouts. "I'll distract them!"

Cathra twists her neck back, snapping the blade through the man’s arm. She feels the grip on her hair slacken and wriggles free, springing back up to fend off another advance.

“Control them!” Maria has picked up her own sword now and is advancing. The blade is so big it’s like she’s dragging a dead body behind her. Sparks trail behind the blade as it scrapes along the ground. “Surround them!”

The men moan in reply. They shamble towards Cathra like they’re drunk, some looking so bad Cathra doesn’t even want to get near. But she has to. She draws her knees together and springs high into the air, landing directly onto one man’s head and bringing him down. Then she springs forward and cuts through another, swinging her head so fast her vision blurs.

She hears a cry of pain. The two remaining men have gotten to Ae’ran while he's still on the ground, and are beating the yaojin with their fists. Cathra gets down for a jump but a hand grasps onto her ankle. She looks down in shock. A man with half a face stares back at her. One of his eyes has fallen out from the hole her sword has left, dangling from a bundle of black nerves.

Cathra cuts through his neck with a clean stroke. The man shudders but his grip on her does not slacken. Cathra aims down and cuts again, sparks flying as she draws the blade through stone.

In a gush of blackened blood, the hand is severed from its body. Yet it still holds on. Cathra fights back a wave of terror and nausea as black worms wriggle out from the rotting flesh, curling into the air as if looking for her.

Whack. Whack. Whack.

Ae’ran is shouting but the only sound Cathra can hear is the fists pounding against him.

Whack. Whack!

Cathra bounces like a psychotic rabbit towards the two men, but a massive sword cuts off her route.

Maria stands in the way with her gigantic blade balanced over one shoulder.

“I control you,” she says before bringing the sword crashing down.

The ground detonates from under Cathra as she leaps out of the way. She lands with both feet then immediately jumps towards Maria's other side. But the woman maneuvers her weapon incredibly well for something that size, and Cathra barely clears the blade this time. The explosion sends her rolling.

Cathra knows she’s running out of time. Ae’ran has gone quiet. The men are still beating him. They don't seem to even be slowing down. But Cathra can't get to them. Not with Maria standing in her way.

Cathra reels back and whips her head towards the men. The sword spins from her mouth, across the room, and into one of their backs.

The man falters only briefly before raising his fists again.

Well, shoot. That didn't work.

Cathra turns for the nearest weapon. But Maria is already charging across the room now, her guillotine spewing sparks as it closes down. Cathra is forced to duck and weave, and soon she's up against the wall.

"I controool you," Maria says and raises her sword up in an overhead swing.

As she readies herself, Cathra suddenly remembers her fight with the Blood Devil. It was much like this, only the roles are reversed.

The sword comes down.

Cathra drops into a crouch then springs back into the wall, feeling the tip of the blade graze her nose. Her feet touch cold stone and she pushes off with all her strength, flying over Maria and her stupidly big blade.

Time seems to slow for Cathra. As she flips through the air, watching the world turn on its head, she sees Maria twisting around, an arm stretching out. Then with a burst of flesh, a black javelin shoots out of the woman’s palm, straight through the air towards Cathra.

Still in the air, Cathra can’t do anything but bring her knees up and pray.

She's lucky. The javelin slices through the chains between Cathra’s ankles, grazing only her shoulder before impaling itself into the ceiling. Cathra lands on both feet and almost cannot believe it. She’s free. Her arms may still be bound but her feet no longer are. Laughter bubbles out of her. She spins around and runs towards the men beating Ae’ran, and kicks them both down.

One of the men does not move. The sword in his back pushed through his chest as he fell on it. The other tries to get up but is stopped when Cathra snaps his spine with her heel, the vibrations of snapping bones running up her entire leg.

Her victory is short-lived. Ae’ran is lying still in a pool of blood. Like hers, his arms are still bound behind his back, so he has nothing to protect his face from behind pounded.

“Oh goddesses please don't be dead,” Cathra says but her words are lost in the screech of metal on stone.

Maria is lumbering over with her sword held over her head, yelling, “Controool!”

“Control this you freak!” Cathra bends over the man with the sword in his chest, pulls the blade out and runs to meet the Wall commander, screaming through her teeth.

The sword lodges into Maria’s throat with a meaty thunk.

Cathra steps back. She spits out a chipped piece of tooth. Her mouth tastes like blood. She watches as Maria lets go of her giant sword, leaving it stuck to the ceiling. Her fingers claw at the blade in her neck, but the steel is slippery from the black blood oozing from the wound. Maria opens her mouth and closes it, gulping silently. She takes a step back, then a step forward, before finally falling onto her face. Where she stays.

Cathra doesn’t wait to see if the woman is getting up. She races over to Ae’ran, crouching down by his head.

“We have to go." She nudges him onto his back. "Wake up."

To her relief, Ae’ran begins to hiss in pain. He turns away to hack out a mouthful of bloody mucus, then moans, “I don’t… ever want to see a dance with you again.”

Cathra allows herself a smile. He's likely bleeding inside and in agony, but he’s alive and that’s the important thing.

“I’ll take you back to your village,” she says. “How does that sound?”

Both of Ae’ran’s eyes have swollen shut but he struggles to open one of them. “That,” he says with the smallest of smiles on his bruised lips, “would be much appreciated.”

With Cathra’s help, Ae’ran gets up off the ground. His wrists and ankles are still bound, so he has to wriggle towards the exit, using Cathra as a crutch. She pretends not to feel how their bodies are rubbing against each other, creating heat in all the improper places.

Ae’ran sniffs the air. “You smell very bad.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, I meant your wound is infected. Do you know any healing spells?”

“It’s fine,” Cathra says. “I can barely feel it.” She immediately ruins the lie by collapsing, forcing Ae'ran to stop as well.

"Are you alright?" the yaojin asks, so full of concern Cathra doesn't even think to question it.

They’ve made it to Maria’s body now. Cathra gestures with her chin. “Check her for keys. I can't move. One of us should at least make it out.”

“I’m not going to leave you,” says Ae’ran. “But good idea about the keys.” He struggles over to the corpse. The sword is protruding from its neck at an angle, and lowering himself just right, Ae’ran starts to rub his tail against the blade, trying to cut through the rope binding it.

He almost manages to do it.

Maria jerks her head up, her mouth opening in blood. Ae’ran glances back and screams in terror. He lurches away but Maria has him by the leg, her fingers digging into skin. She pulls him close. Her jaws open with a fleshy pop.

She bites into him.

Cathra crashes down onto Maria’s neck, snapping the blade across the woman’s spine. The monster doesn’t die. It starts whipping its head back and forth, tearing into Ae’ran. Blood erupts everywhere. Cathra stomps onto the blade, pushing the sword through flesh and bone until it touches stone on the other side.

Ae’ran crawls away, howling in agony. The monster’s severed head falls off his leg, rolling away with a piece of meat still clenched between its teeth.

Cathra peels her foot off the blade, gasping as hot pain shoots up her leg. She hobbles over to Ae’ran, crumpling to her knees next to him.

“Let me see.” She tries to calm him down but the yaojin is hysterical.

“It bloody well hurts!” He cries. “Ooh, hell, oh bloody hells!” He’s trying to grab at his wounded leg but being bound he can only flounder. Listening to his cries, Cathra is overcome with helplessness. She’s never had to treat a wound this severe before, much less with both hands tied behind her back and seriously injured herself.

Ok, think. Breathe. Think and breathe, Cathra. You can do this.

As Ae’ran’s screams turn to sobs, a new sound catches Cathra’s attention. It seems to come from everywhere at once, filling the room with a heavy sense of dread. She turns from the yaojin, eyes peeling the darkness for new threats.

With a pang of horror, she realizes where the sound is coming from.

One after another, the dead men rise from their places. Rotting flesh falls off their bodies, revealing grey bones crawling with black worms.

Then with a piercing screech, the door to the room swings open. Shadows stumble through. It’s the rest of Maria’s men. They spot Cathra and start to run, blood streaming from their faces.

Cathra’s legs go weak. Her bladder will have emptied if it had anything inside. She takes a step backward but can go no further. The portal is right behind her.

The portal.

“Ae’ran,” she says, making her voice as loud and calm as possible. “Do you trust me?”

Ae’ran replies with a scream.

The dead men are close, the nearest one within lunging distance of Ae’ran. Cathra leaps over the yaojin’s body and shoulders the dead man away. The monster barely stumbles before regaining its balance again.

It’s hopeless. I’m too weak. With those thoughts chasing away all the fight inside her, Cathra whirls around to face the portal.

As if knowing her thoughts, the darkness swirls, reaching out with its tendrils.

“Take a deep breath!” Cathra yells and kicks Ae’ran into the portal. The yaojin lets out a cry as his body sticks to the wall, black tendrils devouring him, dragging him into the depths. Then he is gone.

Hands grasp onto the back of Cathra’s shirt. She struggles free, feeling the cotton tearing. Without looking behind she leaps into the barrier, slamming into it shoulder-first.

It’s like hitting against a wall of ice. Cathra gasps as dark tendrils are all over her, writhing between her legs and over her face. Her skin burns then freezes, her heart stops then starts again. And just before she’s pulled into the shadows, Cathra is turned around so she can see the dead men.

They’ve all stopped moving and are standing there watching her, their faces pulled back into grotesque smiles. One of them bends down, picks up Maria’s served head, and pries the piece of Ae’ran’s leg from between her teeth. He then stuffs it into his own mouth, chewing while the grin is still plastered on his face.

Then the tendrils are over Cathra’s eyes, and she forgets how to breathe.