Morgan's eyes flutter open and there's a brief flicker of recognition as he takes in the sight of Ramon and I standing in front of him. Ramon wastes no time in cutting away the rest of the charred putty, the knife flashing like lightning.

"You ..." Morgan croaks, his voice hoarse, "From the party at Southmarsh."

"Relax." I reassure, taking a good look at the wounds covering the captive's body like a bloody blanket, "You got worked over really thoroughly there."

"I can see that too." Ramon affirms, his eyes drawn to Morgan's raw, scabbed up skin, "Torture?"

"Not torture." Morgan finally manages to say after taking another deep breath of the stagnant air, "They called it cleaning."

"Cleaning?" Ramon blurts out disbelievingly, "And who's 'they' anyway?"

Morgan turns his face sullenly away from Ramon, not willing to say anything further. But having gotten an eyeful of Morgan's wounds, I can already make an educated guess about what happened. My mind returns to the night I met Morgan in the washroom with his shirt off.

Wait that came out wrong.

"Your skin problem." I point out, tracing the scabs with an index finger, "Its been cured. No more itching, I reckon?"

Tears start coming from Morgan's eyes the moment my guess had hit the mark. The scales that had been coating Morgan's arms and torso before had all been removed. And from the wounds left behind, whomever performed the treatment was none too gentle about it. This was more similar to skinning an animal rather than proper medical treatment.

"They took it away from me." Morgan begins to sob, "I can't sense her anymore."

"Sense who?" Ramon shoots back as he begins to pull experimentally at Morgan's hand that's still stuck in the wall.

With my boosted strength, I break the chains holding the captive's limbs so that Morgan can at least rest more comfortably. But even though the chains are broken, Morgan's body doesn't budge an inch. His entire back has been plastered fast against the metal wall. I wedge the tip of my sword's scabbard against the wall and try using it to pry the man loose.

"Sylvia. That's whom you're talking about, isn't it?" I challenge as Morgan maintains his silence, "You were part of her weird snake cult. You and all the Montforts."

"Its not a cult!" Morgan suddenly blares and Ramon clamps the man's mouth shut immediately.

"Its fine, its fine." Ramon soothes, "Mac was just being an asshole, like he usually does. No need to raise a fuss."

"No need to alert whomever 'they' are either." I droll, putting my weight into the scabbard, "Not like we're trying to rescue you or anything."

Ramon shoots me a look and I give a vague gesture in response. What? I'm perfectly right here. We're risking our necks to save this ingrate and he's still quibbling with us about this and that. Ramon carefully removes his hand from Morgan's mouth and the man thankfully has the sense not to begin with another loud outburst.

"Not a cult." Morgan murmurs defiantly, softer this time.

"Then what is it?" I demand, "I visited that mine you were talking about, and what was going on inside looked pretty cult like to me."

"Mac, please." Ramon groans.

"Lady Sylvia is an angel." Morgan replies, his voice deadly serious.

"A what?" now this time its Ramon's turn to roll his eyes.

"An angel descended from heaven." Morgan insists doggedly in the face of our disbelief.

"I see." I sigh, nodding sagaciously all the while, "Sylvia, the runaway bride, is actually an angel descended from heaven. Did you find her hot or something?"

"Yes? Hey, watch the arm - OW!" Morgan says before yelping in pain as Ramon gives the stuck arm a hard, vicious yank.

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"Sorry, just trying to get you out of here." Ramon smiles sweetly, "By the way, that Sylvia? She was meant to be big bro's wife."

"Almost ripped my arm off at the wrist." Morgan looks back accusingly at us.

"Can't help it." I shrug, "Your whole body seems stuck to the wall. We might need to do something drastic to get you out of here."

"The torches. The fire is how they control the walls." Morgan hurriedly explains as Ramon gets ready for another hearty pull on the trapped arm.

"Should have said so earlier." I grumble, raising the torch to where Morgan's arm is trapped. The strange fire licks the wall and unexpectedly, the metal begins to shimmer like liquid.

"Its softening?" Ramon gasps incredulously, "How? The torch is nowhere hot enough to manage that."

"No idea." I mutter while pulling Morgan's arm free from the wall with an audible pop, "I'm sure you've noticed that common sense left the room a long time ago."

"If we are even in the room in the first place." Ramon answers as he works to free the rest of Morgan's body with my help, "Where are we anyway?"

"I don't know." Morgan responds helplessly, "We were attacked by someone called Morton. Then the next thing I know, everyone is trapped here, with them."

As Morgan concludes with a shudder, my ears prick up again, this time from the tramping of feet coming from somewhere deeper in the bowels of this place. We might be running out of time here.

"Better trapped here and alive," I say as my senses track the noise, "than dead. Morton wasn't quite so merciful in the mine."

"What?" Morgan almost exclaims but manages to catch himself just in time.

"Chopped everyone inside the mine up," I mime with my hands for emphasis, "Didn't leave any survivors."

"Then, Lady Sylvia?" the captive asks worriedly.

"As far as I know, she's fine." I glower as best as I can with a blindfold on, "What's with you about Sylvia? You should be more worried about yourself right now."

"I would like to know too." Ramon's voice trails off meaningfully as he glares at Morgan, "About what's going on between you and big bro's wife."

"Like I said," Morgan becomes mulish again, "Lady Sylvia is an angel."

"I find that super hard to believe." I deadpan right back, gently pulling Morgan's entire body free from the now sticky metal wall.

"I'm not worthy of her." Morgan sends back a defiant look at Ramon, "No one in this world is."

"Alright, let's do this again." I sigh, trying another tack, "Why in the world would an angel come to Southmarsh? There's nothing particularly holy about the place."

"Unless you count swamp gas as holy." Ramon smirks at his own joke.

"Lady Sylvia descended to this world to save the worthy." Morgan explains, his eyes closed in worship, "To save us from the end."

"The end of what?" I rub my glabella, girding myself against the onslaught of nonsense. On the bright side though, the unknown footsteps are receding, heading away from us.

"The end of everything." Morgan's eyes open in a flash, piercing me straight to the core.

"OK." I nod, quickly regaining my composure.

"OK?" Morgan and Ramon say together, clearly taken aback by my easy acceptance of his story.

"Yes. OK." I affirm to Morgan, "You should rest a bit. Ramon and I will scout ahead."

Morgan gratefully slides down to a sleeping position and soon there's the noise of gentle snoring as Ramon and I trek further into the depths.

"You really swallow that tale about Sylvia being an angel?" Ramon demands as he falls in behind me.

"Of course not." I scoff, my ears locking on to the noise of the receding mystery footsteps, "Its obvious nonsense."

"So that means you have a theory of your own." Ramon concludes, "That's why you lost interest in that homewrecker's story."

"Homewrecker?" my mind boggles for a moment, "Where did that come from?"

"Open your eyes Mac." Ramon quirks his mouth, "Its so obvious."

"Its also obvious I'm wearing a blindfold." I tap Ramon lightly on the head.

"Oh, fine." Ramon flicks me in the forehead in retaliation, "That guy was so consumed with concern for Sylvia. Is that normal to you? There's something clearly going on between them."

"Yeah, cult things." I rebut, "Don't see the homewrecker angle."

"I mean man and woman things." Ramon insists, "That's the only time a guy would get so worked up over someone else. Even to the detriment of his own safety."

"Sounds like a bit of a stretch." I frown, "There's no supporting evidence."

"Take it from someone who fought a dire bear." Ramon reminds, "There's life experience talking here."

"Hoh." I grunt, lost for words, "Love then?"

"I'm not sure?" Ramon looks uncomfortable, "Man and woman things don't just include love."

"More life experience talking?" I smile lightly.

"Maybe." Ramon quickly clams up from the discomfort, "Anyway, you were going to talk about your theory."

"Right, so here's what I think." I clear my throat, "We know Sylvia worked with the Sage. And she started a cult involving worship of Hackal. Since the simplest explanation is usually the right one -"

"Sylvia pretends to be a holy figure to dupe the Montforts." Ramon agrees, "The pretense was good enough to get several true believers among the House Guard."

"And Morton decided to shut down her operation." I fold my arms together, "Bam. Open and shut case."

"There's other questions though," Ramon pursues the line of thought, "Where did Morton find the Izzaks to replace the Montforts? Why doesn't anyone else know about the switch?"

"That ..." I murmur hesitantly, failing to provide any answer. All good questions. Troubling ones too. Since whatever the answers to them might be, it all pointed to one thing.

A scream echoing down the corridor interrupts my ruminations. Ramon and I share a glance at each other before hustling. But I can't shake the final conclusion drawn from our brief discussion.

We were way, way over our heads.