“Two hours.” Thadan’s voice echoed off the cistern walls. “Two fucking hours of walking, and what do we have to show for it? Another dead end—Anyone else’s feet killing them?”
“If you weren’t wearing those ridiculous heeled monstrosities—”
“They’re fashionable, Mira.”
“For a brothel, maybe.”
Brakar’s light spell flickered against damp granite walls. The novelty of exploring Sweetwater Cistern had worn thin. His arm ached from holding the magical focus aloft, but someone had to illuminate their shame.
At least the endless walking is better than fighting monsters, Brakar thought, then immediately regretted thinking it. The universe had a way of punishing optimism in dungeons.
“Mira, you sure about that map?” he asked.
“These tunnels don’t match the layout. Someone’s been renovating without updating the plans.”
“Wonderful.” Thadan sheathed his longsword, keeping the dagger ready. “Just what we need. More complications on a job that barely covers supplies.”
The guild debt loomed over them all, but Brakar knew that Thadan took it personally. His dreams of founding a legendary adventuring company hadn’t included pest control.
“Hey, at least we’re not stuck guarding merchant caravans.” Pockets smacked her mechanical compass. The needle spun wildly before settling on what was definitely not north. “Though I’d kill for a proper workshop budget right now.”
“We can barely afford healing potions,” Brakar muttered. The words tasted like copper in his mouth.
“Speaking of killing...” Mira crouched by the wall, running her fingers over deep grooves in the stone. “These marks. Too big for rats.”
Thadan barely glanced at them. “Probably old damage from when they built the place. Focus on the job.”
“Right. The prestigious job.” Her spotted ears flattened against her skull. “I told my parents I was doing important work in the city. Wonder what they’d say if they knew their daughter was hunting oversized rodents in a sewer.”
“It’s a cistern,” Pockets corrected, still fiddling with her compass. “Completely different water management system. Actually, the engineering principles are fascinating–Wait! I think I see something different in the stonework ahead. Maybe a—no, just another crack. Sorry.”
The steady tap of their footsteps continued. Brakar counted each step, trying to calculate distance traveled. Two hours at average walking speed should mean...
“This isn’t natural.” Thadan stopped. “We should have hit something by now. A turn, a door, anything.”
“Could be a loop spell.” Brakar cleared his throat. “I read about them in—”
“In one of your books at Six Spoons, we know.” Mira pointed out. “Always with the books.”
“Books kept us alive in the Copper Mines.”
“Fair point.” She sniffed the air. “But this doesn’t smell like magic. Just dust and...” Her nose wrinkled. “Something else.”
“Define ‘something else.’” Thadan’s hand drifted to his sword.
“Can’t. Never smelled it before.”
Pockets bounced on her toes. “Wait-wait, what if we’re not going anywhere at all? Like one of those carnival tricks where the floor moves under you but you stay in place?”
They all stopped.
“Shit.” Thadan let out a low whistle. “That’s... actually possible.”
“Oh, also!” Pockets snapped her fingers. “What if we tried walking backward? Sometimes these old ruins have reversed logic triggers and—”
“We are not walking backward for two hours,” Thadan said.
Brakar pressed his palms against the wall. The stone felt real enough, but after so many horror stories from the library’s restricted section... “We could mark the wall? See if we pass it again?”
“Already did.” Mira pointed behind them. “Three marks, half hour apart. We never saw them twice.”
“When did you—”
“While you were all busy complaining about your feet.”
Thadan crossed his arms. “And you didn’t think to mention this earlier? Anyway.” He then raised a finger. “What’s that ahead?”
Brakar lifted his light spell higher. The beam fell on a dark mass in the tunnel. As they approached, the shape resolved into the mangled remains of a giant rat. Its body had been torn apart with surgical precision, organs arranged in neat piles. Blood had soaked into the stone floor, creating a dark circle around the corpse that looked almost black in the magical light.
“Well.” Pockets swallowed. “That’s... methodical.”
“Could be territorial fighting.” Thadan prodded the corpse with his boot. “Rats can get nasty with each other.”
Brakar studied the careful placement of the organs. He’d read about similar behavior in certain predators, but mentioning it would only add to their anxiety. Besides, the guild supervisor had been clear—just rats and maybe spiders. Nothing worth worrying about.
“Right.” Thadan stepped over the corpse. “Keep moving. We clear the dungeon, we get paid.”
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The rhythmic drip of water marked their progress deeper into the cistern. Brakar’s fingers cramped around his spell focus—a polished crystal that had cost three months of savings. The constant glow illuminated their path, but also cast writhing shadows that made every corner seem alive with movement.
“Hold up.” Mira’s ears twitched. “Junction ahead.”
"YAAAS!" Thadan pumped his fist. "Not a loop spells. Point for the optimist!"
The tunnel opened into a wider chamber. Ancient maintenance equipment lay scattered about—rusted tools, rotted rope, crumbling wooden scaffolding. A weathered lantern hung from a hook, its glass clouded with age.
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Brakar squinted at the lantern. Something about its proportions seemed... wrong. The way the metal caught his spell-light didn’t match the tarnished surface. He’d seen this before, in one of the bestiaries at Six Spoons. A low-level mimic, trying to blend in with abandoned equipment.
While the others rested, he quietly murmured something and traced a complex pattern in the air. His magic always carried what Thadan called an “accent”—instead of the standard amber sparkles, Brakar’s spells manifested as spiraling threads of blue-white light. The magic wrapped around the false lantern, and for a moment, reality twisted.
The mimic shuddered, then settled into its new form—a perfectly functional lantern. Brakar caught Thadan watching and offered a slight shrug. Their leader had seen this habit before, Brakar’s tendency to “fix” rather than fight when possible.
“Everyone check your gear,” Thadan ordered, turning away. “Mira, how’s our map looking?”
“Still useless.” She spread the parchment across a relatively dry section of floor. “These maintenance tunnels aren’t even marked. And some genius spilled coffee on the legend.”
“Your father ever mention anything about maze-like sections, Thad?” Brakar asked.
“If he did, I wasn’t listening,” Thadan replied with a tight smile. “Was too busy planning my escape from his ‘legacy of excellence.’”
“Oh-oh!” Pockets bounced forward, fishing something from one of her many pockets. “I made a thing! Well, modified a thing. Well, completely rebuilt a thing that used to be a compass, but now it’s better because it can detect water flow patterns through stone using resonant frequencies and—”
“Pockets.” Thadan rubbed his forehead. “Short version.”
“Right-right. Sorry.” She held up what looked like a brass compass crossed with a music box. “It’ll find the main water channels. Theory is, the giant rats need water, so they’ll nest near the flow.” She tapped the device’s glass face. “Just need to calibrate the—”
A shower of sparks erupted from the mechanism. The sound echoed through the chamber, bouncing off stone walls until it seemed to come from everywhere at once. They all froze.
“Sorry!” Pockets whispered. “Minor technical difficulty. Just need to adjust the—” More sparks. “Shit.”
Mira sighed. “Can we maybe not announce our presence to everything in here?”
“It’s fine,” Thadan said, but his hand stayed on his sword. “Nothing down here but rats, remember?”
Brakar moved to a shelf of old maintenance logs, hoping to distract himself from the growing tension. Most had rotted into illegibility, but one leather-bound volume remained partially intact. He flipped it open, squinting at the faded writing.
Day 147: Movement in the walls again. Foreman says it’s just settling stone, but stone doesn’t move like that. Like something’s [illegible] through it. Put in another request for Silver-rank inspection. Probably get ignored like the last three.
Day 148: Lost contact with section 4 maintenance crew. Foreman says they went drinking. Their tools are still here.
Day 149: Found scratch marks in the [illegible]. Too regular for rats. Too deep for [illegible]. Requesting immediate
The rest had been eaten away by moisture and time.
“Found something?” Thadan asked.
Brakar closed the log. “Just old maintenance records. Nothing useful.”
They pressed on, following Pockets’ sputtering compass deeper into the cistern. The transformed mimic-lantern flickered nervously, but no one seemed to notice.
The tunnel widened into their target section—a vast chamber filled with columns and ancient pumping machinery. Water trickled down the walls, feeding into channels cut into the floor. The air felt thicker here, heavy with moisture and something else. Something organic.
“Finally.” Thadan drew his sword. “Let’s clear this place and—”
Movement above. A whisper of chitin on stone. Clicking mandibles in the dark. Black shapes coiled between the pipes. And a single, pearlescent strand of venom dripped down, stretched thin in the stale air before breaking apart and hitting the stone floor with a wet ‘plick.’
“CENTIPEEEDES!” Thadan screamed.
Brakar looked up just as the first one dropped from the ceiling.
It was massive—easily fifteen feet of armored segments and far too many legs. More followed, falling like horrible rain. Their maws snapped with horrible intelligence as they scuttled with horrible speed to surround the party.
“Those,” Mira said as she nocked an arrow, “are not fucking rats.”
The first centipede lunged.
“Formation!” Thadan shouted, slashing at the monster. His attack merely polished the creature’s natural armor, not even marring the surface.
The creature retaliated, forcing him to dance backward or lose a leg to those clicking mandibles.
“Mira! How many?”
“Too many!” She loosed an arrow that bounced harmlessly off armored plating. “They’re using the columns for cover!”
Brakar tried to focus, to recall the proper healing incantation, but a sudden impact sent him sprawling. Pain lanced through his arm where chitin had scraped skin. His spellbook slid across the wet floor, disappearing under a tangle of writhing segments.
“Pockets!” Thadan shouted. “We need options!”
“Working on it!” She pulled something from her pack—a complex arrangement of gears and springs. “Just need to—” A centipede’s tail whipped past her head. “Shit!”
The mechanical trap snapped shut on one creature’s leg, but three more appeared behind it. The trapped centipede simply twisted, crushing the device beneath its weight.
They were being herded, Brakar realized. Each attack drove them further into the chamber, away from the exit. The centipedes moved with terrible coordination, cutting off escape routes one by one.
Thadan struck again, this time finding a gap between segments. His dagger sank deep—and stuck. He was forced to abandon it as the wounded creature thrashed, taking his weapon with it.
“Fall back!” he ordered. “Find cover!”
They scattered, taking refuge behind columns. Brakar pressed his back against cold stone, trying to stem the bleeding in his arm. Without his spellbook, he was limited to basic healing magic. It would have to be enough.
“Mira?!” Thadan shouted. “Status?!”
No response.
“Mira!”
“Bit busy!” Her voice came from somewhere to their left. “Found an old maintenance tunnel, but—” The sound of arrows striking chitin. “Can’t reach you!”
Arrow whistled. Cutting air. Aimed for the monster above Thadan. The shaft ricocheted at a wicked angle, burying deep in Thadan’s bicep. He roared, more frustration than pain.
Blood spurted between his fingers as he yanked the arrow free. His hand flew to his belt, uncorking a healing potion with his teeth. The red liquid disappeared in one desperate swallow.
Movement behind Mira. A massive centipede, segments rippling, mandibles spread wide.
“Down!” Thadan bellowed.
Mira dropped. Thadan lunged. The creature’s mandibles raked across his thigh, opening his flesh to bone. Blood painted the floor in a crimson arc. The centipede’s head snapped sideways, its armored body coiling for another strike.
Thadan’s second potion shattered against his teeth. Glass crunched as he gulped the liquid, stem to stern. The gash in his leg sealed, but too slowly. Far too slowly.
Why was it closing slowly? Brakar asked himself. No time—
The creature’s mandibles clicked with unnerving precision, dripping with his blood.
Brakar risked a glance around his column. The centipedes had shifted formation, leaving clear paths between certain columns while blocking others. The pattern looked familiar—like something he’d seen in that book on swarm tactics. If he could just remember the counter...
A horrible ripping sound drew his attention. Thadan staggered into view, his armor hanging loose where mandibles had severed the straps. He still gripped his sword, but his movements had grown sluggish.
“The pump!” Pockets called out. “We need to protect the—”
They all turned. The ancient water pump—their actual objective—lay in ruins. Shattered gears and twisted metal suggested this damage wasn’t new. Whatever had done this had been here for weeks.
The mimic-lantern sputtered and died, plunging them into darkness, broken only by Brakar’s weakening spell. In that dim light, he saw movement above. More shapes dropping from the ceiling, their segments clicking together like horrible applause.
“Even copper-ranks shouldn’t fail at pest control,” Thadan muttered, quoting their guild supervisor.
Brakar pressed harder against the column as mandibles clicked closer. His arm throbbed, his magic flickered, and in the darkness, more centipedes began to descend.