When you pound the halls of a cavernous underground dungeon long enough, something is bound to shake loose. Sometimes, it’s a monster. Other times, it’s a test.

At the end, it’s always both.

It's inevitable. A dungeon concludes with a boss battle. It's how these things work.

I suppose, had we not already met with the worst this new world has to offer, it would feel more momentous. But like I said, I'm ready to get this shit over with. This dungeon has already showed us its worst, and it turns out monsters weren't it.

Plus we still got a necromancer to kill. So, you know, let’s get to it, shall we?

Thankfully, whatever suspense I’m supposed to feel doesn’t last long. As soon as we step into the cavern, the show begins. The light of the glistening minerals dims. The fungi and moss draw back like curtains. And the star takes center stage.

I have no clue how or when he arrived. One moment, the battlefield was empty and obvious, standing open like heinous maw. The next, it belched up an enemy right up out of the earth. Poof. Monster.

It’s a fairy - no surprise there. Another lithe, handsome Sidhe with no weapons but his damn fine looks.

Like the fairies we’ve seen before, he’s draped in nature as though the cavern attempted to reclaim his body in his sleep. This guy’s a little less flora, a little more fauna though. Ropey strings of web crawl up and around his body, thickened lace covering all the right and wrong places. I swear I even see little flecks of spiders wiggling around in there.

💀 Sidhe Weaver (Lv 15)

Though perfect in every way, this individual of the Aos Sidhe can transform, changing his appearance to suit his whims.

Yeah, that dude’s turning into a spider.

Two more Sidhe appear behind him. These, I believe, are female fairies, indicated by their bare little ant mound breasts. And yes, I’m being petty. They’re still downright gorgeous, with long silver hair corded in countless braids and rose-pink petals budding from their flawless moonlit skin. But I got their racks beat, so there.

Sidhe Dancers (Lv 15)

A notably dextrous member of the fae, these notorious charmers integrate combat and dance.

Charmers. Shit. Can they entrance too? I completely forgot that Ron shattered his gittern. Do vocals work? Even if he can’t hold a tune, his skill in musical performance is still pretty good. Surely that counts for something. Either that, or I’m just going to have to not look at them the entire battle.

Alright, Mr. Apathy, take a back seat for a sec. Survival Instincts, you’re up.

I get ready to pull my daggers from their sheathes - one poison, one twin. “Senan, Afric, get behind us. Ron, can you-”

“My, my.” The Sidhe weaver tilts his head, a smirk snaking across his pale lips. “What theatrics. What drama! Such a violent little troupe you are. Why don’t we use our words like civilized people? If we can teach that sniveling lord of yours, then surely your manners are not so far out of reach.”

“You want to talk?” I ask incredulously.

He folds his hands in front of him. “I would appreciate an attempt.”

“Are we going to end up fighting afterwards anyhow?”

Elias stares at me, his axe primed for battle. “What are you doing?”

I shrug. “Getting bored.” So much for apathy taking a back seat.

“Don’t disappoint now,” the Sidhe interrupts, that smirk unwavering. “You survived our gauntlet. You’ve stolen our children. Undoubtedly, you have comments. Questions, perhaps. Your kind always does.”

Tapping eagerly on my dagger grips, I look to my group. Ron stands beside me, sword half-drawn, that bare belly paunch of his hanging out. His attention shifts from enemy to enemy with an apprehensive, puzzled expression. The kid NPCs are using him as cover, their tiny fists clenched, hungry for revenge.

To my other side, Elias seems to have already decided what he wants. He’s breathing deeply, the battleaxe heaving in his steady grip. He focuses on the lead fairy, eyes narrow, unblinking, as though he’s actively painting a target on that pristine forehead. Either that or he’s too near-sighted to see him clearly.

So it looks like I’m getting three poorly weighted votes for revenge, one heavily weighted vote for a fight, and one I’m counting as abstaining. Then there’s Luci.

Poised protectively beside the children, she has her bow out of its sash and is actively grinding the lower limb against the stone floor. In her other hand is an arrow that she raps repeatedly against her thigh. She seems antsy. Angry even. Her lip twitches as she glares at the fairy leader. Eventually, her eyes catch mine.

“What.”

“What do you want to do?” I ask. “Want to talk this out?”

“Why?” She throws an unimpressed, teenage glare at the Sidhe. “We know what’s going on.”

“Do you?” the fairy says, amused.

“Sure. That sorcerer covered the island in fog. The fog brought monsters. The government shipped over that skeeve to fix it. He couldn’t. He asked you guys for help. You sorta-kinda helped with the fog, gave him some magic to hide the town and those stupid little statues. You know, enough to make him feel like a man but still too weak to really change things. He’s still all paranoid. Locking up magic users and whatever.”

“And he traded kids to do it. Brought ‘em here for you to play with. Put some trance on the town so they didn’t remember,” she continues. “That’s right, isn’t it? You’re not, like, training soldiers with those amulets. It’s just fun. All of this is for fun. Like the changelings. Like all of it. Lord Cathal, too. He’s a toy. You know, I’m not even sure you fairies die down here. You’re probably immortal. The way you keep smiling. You’re enjoying this too much.”

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As she speaks, the smirk on the fairy’s face freezes. He stares at Luci as though enchanted himself. Then, when she’s done, those pale lips break into a wide grin.

The fairy turns to the Sidhe dancers. “Are you listening to this? A violent little troupe, indeed. Violent and quite righteously angry, I see. Who draws your anger, girl? Is it you? Are you afraid you’re only a toy?”

Luci rolls her eyes.

“You are quite right, however. But aren’t you missing something?” the fairy asks. “You see, I wonder who will hold the fog at bay now that you’ve severed our deal with Lord Cathal. You can return the children. We’ll forget this happened. There will be a payment made, whatever the outcome.”

“Yeah, no thanks.”

Elias touches her arm. “Luci. Perhaps we should discuss this.”

“Oh, you guys can make decisions for the whole group and I can’t?” She looks pointedly at the fairy. “They’re not going back.”

“Very well,” he replies. “The deal is off. You can expect the sorcerer’s conjuration to consume the isle, if he so chooses. And the enchanted stupor we held over the town has lifted as well, so I dare say your lord will have an interesting time explaining the exact fates of Hy-Brasil’s children.”

His posture shifts. I don’t wait.

“Ron, sing.”

“Uh, what should I-”

“Literally anything, Ron!’”

And the fight begins. Honestly, I don’t think we would’ve been able to talk the fairies out of it anyhow.

New Status!

Serenaded: All emotional statuses are nullified.

The moment that Ron breaks into song - a rendition of, I want to say, “Welcome to the Jungle” maybe? - the Sidhe weaver snarls and withers beneath his gossamer clothes. It’s like watching a flower decay in fast-forward. His body desiccates, his limbs curl inward, and he crinkles like scrunched paper until all that’s left is a heap of spiderwebs. Then the pile ruptures, discharging sticky strings in an explosion of white, and an arachnid is born.

To think, I took the guy for hot.

What results is a thing of nightmares. I knew the prick was going to transform into a spider, but that doesn’t lessen that feeling of creepy-crawly, chills-up-my-spine, they’re-in-my-fucking-skin terror. It’s a wolf spider, as tall as my shoulders, complete with prickly hair, three rows of black eyes, and whatever those repulsive segmented appendages are that stick out its mouth. It scuttles in an orienting circle, sets its eight eyes on Ron, and jumps.

Jumps, people. As if it couldn’t get worse.

Thankfully, before it can land on our karaoke star, Elias bashes it out of the air with his charge and follows it up with a horizontal swipe. He hacks away at the spider, carving up its hairy flesh, dodging a bite, swinging, swinging, and swinging again. The spider is faster, but Elias is stronger. Skitter as it may, the creep can’t evade each blow, and its own attacks are nearly worthless.

Before long, the spider’s oozing blue-green blood from wound upon wound. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to care. Its fortitude must be high up there. Fast and tough; that spider’s a survivor.

Meanwhile, the Sidhe dancers descend.

Here’s what I expected: some kind of capoeira, twirling around on hands, pirouetting into a kick kind of dancing. Here’s what I should have expected: something Irish. Obviously. Arms pinned to the sides, lots of stiff upwards leaps and precise foot movements. I never thought of Riverdance as scary. And it shouldn’t be, until two six-foot-tall, pale fairies are bounding their way over, both somehow stiff as boards and way too fast to track.

Did you know?

The rinnce mór, popularized in-

I swipe it away. I thought those were over. Seriously, why am I the only one the system feels like tormenting with this?

Luci launches an arrow, strafes, and manages to nail both dancers on the recall. Before she can nock another arrow, I shout: “Hold for a sec!” and tag in.

I shadowstep behind a dancer, drawing my poison blade across her skin, then dash behind the next and clip her with the double toxin ability. As her pores sizzle with foul green foam, I anchor her with my scian and stab again.

And that’s when I realize Ron isn’t singing anymore. I pinch my eyes shut, but it’s too late.

Instantly, I’m hit with shame and regret. Tearing apart that shimmering pearl skin like a monster. And look at the fairy dance! Slow but graceful, the ethereal queen curves her slender arms above her head, releasing a rain of feathered petals. Then she whirls like a warm wind, spry and springy, her bare feet prancing so beautifully and so fast that it isn’t until my shin explodes with pain that I realize she kicked me.

With a crack, my bone splits. Screaming, I crumple to the floor. I clutch my leg, wailing, and… is that bone? Oh Jesus, I can feel the bone. With my fingers. Splintered bone juts out of my calf like a pencil punching through paper. The skin is torn. Blood everywhere.

I’ve never felt pain like this before. I can’t breathe. I’m hyperventilating. Clammy. Light-headed. Am I going into shock? There’s a notification waiting - no doubt telling me that I was entranced. Again. And nearly in the exact same way as before.

As I think about it, it pops into view.

New Status!

Entranced: Looking at the enemy causes you to lose focus. Effect lasts for 2 seconds and renews on line of sight.

Yup, there it is. Shit. How? Why isn’t Ron singing? Mental note for next time: make a redundancy plan.

Jesus, this hurts. Sweet baby and all his fucking mothers. The agony. I can’t… I’m going to faint.

Where the hell is Ron?

The fairy’s legs flash near me. She’s coming in for the kill. Keeping my eyes trained on anything but her, I try to teleport back, but my ten seconds are up. Dammit, dammit. In a last ditch effort to escape, I nab the spider in my line of sight and use my last dregs of stamina to shadowstep behind it. Thank god for that Well Fed status.

Oh, there’s Ron. Beneath the spider. I can tell he’s trying to sing, but he’s got a leg on his throat, and he can’t get a good enough reach to attack it with any kind of oomph. And Elias? He narrowly misses me with a sideways strike as he lops off the offending leg. Unfortunately, the spider just trades it out for another. It’s got seven left, and a giant ass to plop on Ron’s throat if it comes to it.

A few feet away, Luci watches the dancers in awe, visibly entranced. Behind her, the other children sit cross-legged, utterly entranced as well, chins resting in their palms, eyes big like they’re back in the ‘90s and that dude in tight pants and tap shoes is center stage. Not like they’d be of any help anyhow.

I’m flat on my back, my blood dribbling out into a puddle.

“Helen?” calls Elias.

Panting, heart fluttering, I barely manage to lift a finger and point. “Luci. Entranced.”

He spots Luci. Then, due to pure human nature, he glances at the cause. Goddammit.

Now it’s just me and Ron. Mostly just Ron.

Buried beneath seven segmented legs, Ron thrusts his sword up and into the spider’s belly, carving a wide hole and bathing himself in a faucet of watery blood. Meanwhile, his face is turning a shade of blue, a leg cutting off his air supply as well as his voice.

So long as the big guy doesn’t faint, the Sidhe weaver won’t survive. But all the fairy has to do is hold out until the dancers finish us off. They have Luci entranced. They have Elias. They’ll have me unless I can keep my eyes shut.

“I’ll distract them from Luci, but I’ll more than likely get caught in their spell,” says Elias. When I give him a look, he waves a hand over his eyes. “Near-sighted.”

“Oh. Shit.”

“You need to come up with a plan.”

And then he charges in. I don’t look to see the results.

Okay. Helen, the plan girl. What do you got?