Rana lunged at a random medusae as they all rushed past, pinning them to the wall. Her knife pressed against their throat and their eyes went wide.

“Take me to Irasada and I will let you go,” she lied as all around her medusae panicked and frantically rushed to the aid of their brethren or away from the monster. This medusae, already in a state of fear nodded nervously and Rana let them walk, holding them at knifepoint the whole time. In all the chaos she had hoped that no one would notice them. That she could just lie her way to the goddess of ink that had given her her curse and then figure out what to do after that. She had survived the Umberlago, she had survived the medusae, she could survive this.

But, unfortunately for her, the chaos around her was not entirely to her aid. One of the medusae dashed past, already changing shape into some sort of warrior and in doing so crashed into her, knocking her away from her prisoner. The prisoner dashed away and she was left helpless in the middle of the great cave as all around her figures rushed too and fro, preparing to meet their ancient foe, the great Monster. The Monster who’s chains, even now, could be heard rattling and crashing against the entrance of the cave as it fought those stationed there.

Rana felt overwhelmed, before her stood a great impenetrable stone door and behind it Irasada, her only hope at lifting the curse. In all the noise and panic she couldn’t think, she couldn’t revise her plan or envision anything else, because her head was filled with ink and lies. She was drowning in ink, all around her the chaos roared and within she drowned, unable to swim. But then a hand touched her.

She turned and saw a medusae, just like all the others, but this one she recognised. This was was Sal. He grabbed her arm and dragged her away. Away from the chaos and panic and slightly closer to the surface of the ink, slightly closer to breathing again.

They reached a corner of the great cave and Rana panted with exertion, waiting for her mind to clear. It didn’t. “You are brave coming here,” Sal said. “What did you hope to achieve?”

Rana tried to speak and the words died in her throat, she didn’t want to lie to Sal, she couldn’t. But she couldn’t tell the truth either. Her mind struggled and flailed in the darkness, slipping further from the surface.

“I am here to rescue my friend,” she lied, the lies dragging her further into the ink.

Sal nodded, understanding, even Sal believed she was cured of her curse. “Follow me.” Panic and tears welling up within her Rana followed Sal, maintaining her calm lying composure on the surface. They moved out of the main chamber and up one of the paths that led outside.

The Eagle strode forward bearing the Cleanser of Names in one hand and their staff in the other. The staff had many magical properties woven into it for long had the Eagle sought to imitate the workings of their ancient brethren the Spider. But the powers of the staff paled in comparison to the sword and what it could do. It could kill anything, it could kill the monster.

At first it had not been clear what was attacking them but a young medusae had run into the main chamber and screamed what was happening sending everyone into panic. Some had run for the secret exits out of the cave but some were standing to fight and the Eagle led them. Ahead were screams and that incessant rattling and crashing of chains. The chains were new, perhaps they would hinder it enough that they might have more of a chance than their forebears had. Slowly they marched forward and slowly the screams ahead of them began to die down, then they stopped. The monster had finished those near the entrance of the cave, it would be coming for them now. The Eagle looked up at the great sword, the Cleanser of Names, dripping in ink and- They looked at the point of the sword, which they’d been holding aloft to inspire the other medusae forward. It was clean, the ink was dripping off and behind it was nothing more than a normal sword. A normal sword that would have no chance to slay the Monster. The Eagle almost turned back to look for the woman they’d taken the sword from but then the Monster barrelled out of the cave.

The Panther ran back through the caves toward the main chamber, a spear emblazoned with the glyphs of the medusae in their hands. There were screams and cries of pain and terror below and the clattering of chains. The Panther had not recognised the tracks that accompanied the Monster’s ones but they realised now that they’d been chains. This was the Monster itself, it was back and in their home. The Panther ran to help.

They met another medusae, a younger one, running the other way, fleeing the monster. This was understandable, the medusae had spent hundreds of years hiding from their problems, most of them no longer knew how to fight. But the Panther had no time for such cowards, they needed every medusae to help them now. So the Panther stopped and held the other medusae at spearpoint, they were the Ferret, a young and tricky medusae who the Panther was not surprised to see fleeing.

“Your people need you,” the Panther said, gesturing for them to head back. “There are weapons in the Great Hall, we can still slay this beast.”

The Ferret shook their head in terror. “No we can’t.”

“We-” There were more footsteps and then more figures emerged, other medusae, some of them young but some of them old as well. All fleeing, so many of them were fleeing, and this was only one exit tunnel.

“Stop! You must-” the Panther shouted but the medusae did not listen and the ones at the back shoved into the ones at the front, pushing them into the spear. The Panther did not want to slay their own kind, that was forbidden, but they could not simply let these capable warriors go either. So they held their ground and let them fall upon the spear. The medusae piled up and the Panther began to fight.

Many medusae died upon the point of the spear and still more came. Their bodies, living and dead piled up against the Panther and pushed them against the wall, some slipping past to run up the tunnel. They no longer fought for the hope of sending the others back to help the battle. Now they simply fought to stay alive. Soon there were only three medusae left. Then two, then one. The others were gone, either dead to join the many bloody dead on the floor or alive and running off in on direction or the other. There was only one left and... and... Gods and demons there was so much blood on the floor. The Panther wondered how much of it was their own.

Two new figures hurried up the tunnel to see this face off between the two remaining medusae. The Panther welcomed the respite as the other medusae turned to face them.

“Hey, you’re the woman. The one who bought the Cleanser of Names!”

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The Cleanser of Names? That was a weapon that could kill the monster, then there was still hope after all. The Panther looked at the figures, one was a medusae, the one from Meduramanth and the other was a human woman. But she barely looked human anymore, she was so pale and sickly and with such a huge black scar across her mouth. A scar that seemed to grow bigger and darker in the shifting light of the tunnel. If this woman had the Cleanser of Names then the Panther would take it from her and use it to slay the Monster. There was still hope. There was still- The Panther moved to lunge at the two new figures but the woman had already fled back down the tunnel, dragging her medusae companion with her. The Panther looked around, they were so tired and the world was beginning to grow hazy around them. The other medusae was gone, all the medusae were gone. They looked down at the many corpses laying below them. They were all gone.

The Monster burst into the great chamber of the cave and saw before it a medusae force lined up to meet it just like the medusae forces of old. All of them darting and shifting and changing shapes and colours to confuse the eye, but the Monster had too many eyes and too keen a nose to be fooled by tricks like that, especially when each and every one of them reeked of fear. The Monster drank it up.

But one figure was not shifting and changing colours. One figure stood tall and proud in the centre bearing a blade, a familiar blade coated in black ink. The Cleanser of Names. The figure seemed uncertain, unsure of themselves but the Monster was weary of them all the same. The medusae were crafty and sometimes the ones among them that looked the weakest had hidden strength and this one wielded that deadly blade. Last time the Monster had eaten the wielder of that blade and received only an injury but who knew what a second such injury would do. The Monster did not have a second name to be taken.

So instead of lunging forward at the terrified medusae with the sword it flung its newly acquired chain, sending it in a great arc across the room toward the figure, moving fast as a whip. However, while fast, the chain was not accurate and it caught on one of the many hiding medusae scattered throughout the room. Slicing deep into their flesh and rending them apart but stopping the chain dead in its tracks.

The sword wielder saw this grisly carnage and seemed to gain their courage. They raised the blade, screamed a war cry and charged forward, shifting and changing to blend in as best they could with the background and their fellows. The other medusae all charged forward as well and the Monster longed to leap at them all and tear them apart as it had those in the outer rooms. But instead it had to play things cautiously, ducking and darting around that figure in the middle and tearing apart the others that surrounded it. This was far from easy as the medusae were fast and skilled despite being fragile beneath its claws. What’s more each time it leapt or slithered to the side to stay back from the sword the chain would flick and twist with it. Occasionally it would split open another medusae but most of the time it would just get in the Monster’s way. So it desperately fought its foes and the chain and tried to maneuver the battle so that it could send the chain at the figure with the sword. In doing all of that it didn’t notice the four figures emerge back into the chamber, one of whom carried in a scabbard, the actual sword.

Sal followed Rana back into the main chamber of the cave and witnessed the carnage of the Monster of the Ways tearing into what brave medusae had stayed to fight it. They were not warlike creatures, far more adept at deception and intrigue, and hundreds of years of hiding in the forest had not improved their courage. So many of them had fled and few were left to stand up to the creature. Sal watched as its great claws rent through two of their brethren. They turned away and continued following Rana. They had little love for many of the other medusae and their archaic ideas of medusae superiority, but it still hurt to see such brutality, especially after seeing what had happened in the exit cave.

Rana was not heading to any of the other exits to the chamber, even though many of them were easily reachable without traversing the great battle that occupied much of the chamber. Instead she walked straight to the great door at the rear of the chamber. The door that housed Irasada.

“Wait! What are you doing?! Rana what-” Sal shouted rushing toward her but then she spun around and grabbed him, tossing him against the door and drawing a knife against his throat, just like she’d done to the other medusae. The other medusae that she’d asked to take her to Irasada.

“What do you...?” Sal asked in fear.

Rana simply looked at the door she held him against. Her eyes were glassy and cold now and her skin was ashen white. The great scar across her mouth had grown darker and was growing darker still. Realization began to dawn in Sal’s eyes. He had wanted to believe her, all the medusae had wanted to believe her because that was how the magic worked. But she’d been lying the whole time.

“If I don’t open this door?” he asked, terrified. “Will you kill me?”

“No,” she said coldly and pressed the blade further into his throat.

He turned and found rune that opened the door.

Behind her the blood covered spear wielding medusae from the cave burst out and looked at them with hazy eyes. “Give me the swo-” they began, but Rana spun around and drew her sword, plunging it into the medusae’s neck. But it wasn’t her sword. It was the Inkdrop Blade, the Cleanser of Names. Sal’s eyes widened, she hadn’t given the Eagle the Inkdrop Blade at all, she had the real one this whole time. It had all been a lie, a huge lie. The only human he had trusted back in Meduramanth had just lied to him and threatened to kill him. And around him all of his people died powerless to fight the Monster because they had the wrong weapon.

The lock clicked and the great stone doors swung slowly inwards, revealing the chained demon within.

The Dragonfly, one of the oldest, wisest and most powerful among the medusae; ran. They darted up the tunnel desperate to escape from that ancient and primal creature that all the forces of Meduramanth and the old medusae empire had been powerless against. They remembered that day well when the Monster had come upon Meduramanth. They had run then too and because of it they had lived to this day. They intended to go on living.

Behind them the roars and screams and clashing of chains echoed and so it was some time before they noticed the rumbling. But eventually they had to stop and watch in horror as the cave they fled through shook around them and then began to crumble. They clung on for dear life and then fell to the side as part of the cave was torn away by a great white claw. Another claw wormed its way through and seemed to pass right over the Dragonfly only to rend the cave apart beneath them. Then came the eyes, two small empty eyes tunneling their way into the cave ahead of a great white misty body.

The Dragonfly cowered in fear as the Umberlago crawled into the cavern of the medusae. It had taken apart creatures large and small to see how they worked. It had put all manner of different creatures together to see how they interacted. It was a curious creature and it wished to see all manner of interesting things. And something very interesting was about to happen.

Rana walked through the flood of ink and lies toward the great pulsing mass of inky flesh that lay chained in the centre of the ink drenched chamber. It was something akin to a spider but fleshier and with many more mouths. It had no eyes but it looked at her all the same and she felt strangely welcome within the terrible inky void it drew her into.

The many mouths spoke many lies, both great and small, whispering all the lies she had ever told or had told to her and more. But above them all, drowning all but the loudest out the mouths begged for one thing.

“Release me,” they cried, pain and suffering racking every syllable, for the chains did not simply bind the demon, they wove through it and into it as well, ensuring there was no escape. Rana walked up to the great spider, to Irasada, the Demon Queen of Lies. She took the Cleanser of Names, a sword made with the Demon Queen’s own blood, she did not know if it was capable of harming her, let alone killing her, but she felt it was the right thing to do. She turned away from the surface and plunged deeper into the drowning inky void, letting it fill her nose, her mouth, her lungs. She plunged the blade deep into the demon before her. The Cavern of the Medusae rang with Irasada’s screams.