It was a cold morning when they brought her out. Or night. Hard to gouge the passage of time in the perennial under-dark of the dungeon. Sometimes she was certain she’d slept for days. Sometimes it merely felt like heartbeats between the moment she passed out and the cold water splashed onto her naked form.

This was no different.

A door had been opened somewhere and the chill gust of the mountain’s breath slithered all the way into the depths of her cell. She shivered violently as they dragged her by the chains. Another day of torture to follow. Another turn on the rack. She had nothing more to say to them, no more secrets to unveil, no more pleas to make, nothing to bargain away. But they kept at it, day after day, sick with the delight of her screams.

This would be no different.

Part of her doubted they had even cared to listen to anything she’d said. No matter how many times she’d screamed her secrets to them, they kept at their grim work, her pain a goal into itself.

“Why?”

Her voice wasn’t her own. That sent her stumbling.

The question, spoken barely louder than a whisper, earned her the lash of the whip. It cracked her skin and she stumbled in pain and shock. The hooded figures holding her chains didn’t stop and dragged her forward across the rough stone floor.

Tallah, this is wrong! Christina? She didn’t normally intrude into the dream, merely warded it off. She sounded panicked. You weren’t imprisoned here. This isn’t block number five. This isn’t of your memories. What’s going on?

The voice drifted through her addled mind and was swallowed in the pain of scraped skin against cold stone and lashes against skin. She cried out and again couldn’t recognise her own sounds.

They weren’t taking her to the rack. That was down the third corridor to the left, exactly twenty-five paces away from her cell. She knew the count by heart.

Tallah had never counted the steps to any of the torture rooms.

Instead, she was dragged forward, past the sorceress in the third cell that had stopped crying out two… no, three days prior. She stole a gaze at the barred hollow and found it bloody, the sorceress laid down on her cot, wheezing in fitful sleep. Her mouth had been sown shut.

What indignity awaited her today? The knives? No, that would’ve had the mind-skinner in the room with them. He wouldn’t miss the chance of telling her how lucky she was for his attention and for serving a cause much higher than any of them.

Would it be the cold water? Or the fire? Or the men?

None, it seemed. She went further in, down the last flight of stairs, nearly tripping down if not for her minders holding taut the chain. She’d never been here.

Ultimately, they sat her down and strapped her to a chair. It wasn’t the most uncomfortable, just rough wood against her bare skin. Her arms were tied at her back and her feet shackled to the chair. What more could they do? Was there anymore creativity left in her gaolers?

The men left the room and she was left alone in the spare light of a single burning torch. When this all had begun, she’d counted heartbeats to keep herself sane. Now she fell asleep the moment they closed the door behind themselves. Whatever would happen would happen. At least she’d suffer rested.

“You’re a stubborn one,” a voice said and woke her.

Looking up revealed someone new looming over her. A woman. Hair cut short. Crystal blue eyes. Short and wiry. She held a staff.

“What is your name?” the healer asked.

“Rhine.”

The world trembled. That wasn’t right!

How? Christina intruded and she could see the ghost’s outline trying to manifest next to the woman. This isn’t… this can’t be. How is it doing it? You’re protected.

“Your full name, girl.”

“Rhine Amni.”

“Who were your parents?”

“I… I can’t remember.”

“You will.”

Her head was yanked back and she got a good look at her new torturer’s face. Young. Those blue eyes as bright and dead as a snake’s.

“Drink. It’ll make everything easier.”

She obeyed. She’d learned early the price of disobedience. This thing didn’t claw her insides. It wasn’t the usual tonics or draughts to put her back together after they were done with her. Sweet. A hint of lemon. She’d forgotten there could exist things that weren’t bitter.

“What are your parents’ names?”

Now she couldn’t raise the defiance to lie. It hurt her to consider it.

“My mother is Crelli Amni.”

“Good. And you father?”

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“Andro of Sentry’s Holding.”

“Good.”

The pressure on the back of her neck eased as the other took her hand away.

Out of her field of view she heard a box opening and then a sound like wasps buzzing angrily. She knew of insects used for torture. She’d seen it done a few times, back in the South, when she watched the empress’s soldiers try to extract information from one of her men.

Her sister’s orders.

“Look at me, Rhine Amni.”

Again, she obeyed even if the weight of her head was the weight of millstone and her strength waned. The woman held out a black gemstone and showed it off.

“Do you know what this is?”

She did. Her bowels loosed at the sight of it and she felt hot piss running down her legs as understanding dawned. Not that. Any other depravity but that.

“Rhine Amni, born of mother Crelli Amni and father Andro of Sentry’s Holding, I claim you.”

Nothing happened. The gem puffed to smoke and… and… music. A voice calling out for her, a sweet distant melody that sang out and invited her forward.

“That’ll do for now,” the healer said and headed for the door. “This one’s strong,” she spoke when it opened. “Her Grace wants her excision done properly. Take her back to the cell and leave her for a few days so the draw grows strong enough. Call me when you aim to start the work again. I will supervise.”

“Yes, lady Dreea.”

Tallah woke with a jerk as two hooded figures dragged her off the chair. Her heart threatened to explode out of her chest.

What were you two doing?! Bianca shrilled in her mind. I have been trying to wake you for a bell.

“What happened?”

Threads of the dream clung on to the edges of her mind as Rhine crouched in front of her, speaking wordlessly. Tallah climbed to her feet awkwardly, one hand holding to the wall.

“Where’s the old man?”

That’s why I was trying to wake you. He took the jewel and the mask, and left us.

Bastard.

“When?”

A bell ago. Didn’t say a word. Just took off down the stairs.

Is he mad? He’ll be dead the first spider he runs across. Christina’s voice shook. Either in fright or in anger, Tallah wasn’t sure.

“Couldn’t have gotten far.”

What happened to the two of you? No response in spite of everything I tried.

Strange story. For now we need to get back our things.

Whatever ill effect she suffered from earlier still lingered. Head light, feet heavy. Not an ideal situation to chase after a bastard that was already long gone. If she were lucky, she’d find his half-eaten corpse at the bottom of the stairs, wherever these led.

“Bastard,” she groaned, stumbling down the steps, hand holding on to the statues lining the road. She wanted to infuse but the dread of touching that power again stayed her attempts. “No worse case possible.”

We could be burned out, Christina provided unhelpfully. I can tease some illum that’s not corrupted, but I can’t say how much. Best we try and avoid the trail.

“Excellent plan… if I could see the bloody thing. Any other bright ideas for now?”

Try and not get bit by one of the spiders?

Lovely. Just lovely.

And here, the cherry atop the cake, was the bottom of the stairs. It all opened up into a forest turned blood-red by the strange colours of the crystals above. If there were tracks to follow, they were nearly invisible in the strange light.

The whole place could be filled with spiders and whatever other creatures prowled the impossible vista.

“We’ll take to the air.” Yes. The decision was the only one that made any sense. She couldn’t follow the old bastard in that thicket, and she couldn’t turn back. If the night was as long as the day, she’d have too much to wait before the light changed again.

Best thing, then, was to take to the sky and try and keep away and out of sight for that monster prowling around. Maybe with the mask it would’ve been easy to plan for whatever came, but like this…

She set out in a random direction.

What are you doing?

“Hopefully, getting away from the trail to try and infuse.” Her sword, at least, was a comforting weight in hand, and Vergil’s axe on her belt was an alternative she was beginning to consider. “Christi, you pull in and let me know if it’s all right.”

Makes sense. You need Bianca. I’m expendable.

Nothing wrong in that. A snuffling through the underbrush announced some creature studying her. It sounded big by breath, but nothing she was particularly worried about. A corallin here would be bad news, but those big cats weren’t keen on enclosed spaces. This ran off the moment she blindly swung her sword in its direction, its squeal echoing among the trees.

It’s safe. You can draw.

She did. Fire ignited in her chest and Bianca’s power thrummed in her back, the soul thread imbued to full strength. All of it chased away the wariness set in her bones and she felt herself light again. Part rest, part illum in her veins, mostly Bianca pulling them up into the air. As expected, nothing to see or any guide to follow. Just the stretch of forest, as far as her eye could see up to the far wall of the cavern, lost in a haze without her glasses.

“If I were particularly unlucky, where would I be?” If Sil and Vergil had come down this way then she’d need to keep her activity within a reasonable distance. How to chase after the old man and after those two lost imbeciles?

Airborne, she saw the forest stretching deep into the rock, through gorges dug forward, lit by crystals hanging above on impossible contraptions that reminded her too much of girders and machinery from Valen’s reconstruction effort. This wasn’t natural, but it was planned up to a point. Another mystery for never.

Water flowed somewhere further in, a fall that probably accumulated in some inner lake. The chances of Sil and Vergil seeing the falls and following there were slim.

But they would see the huge stalagmite hanging off the side of the forest. In a place where everything was sculpted out and ornately carved, this long black fang hung above the precipice.

If she saw it, the beast chasing would too.

It’s worth the risk, Christina argued. At least we may get proper sight of our surroundings. It’s unlit.

That, it was. She pitched forward and Bianca carried her among the crowns of the trees, low enough that Tallah raised her arms to protect her face. Higher, and she may be cut down. Lower, and she expected a spider on her back and claws through her chest.

“They’d better be there,” she groaned. “Or we may have to do something bloody stupid.”

Us? We’d never. Both Bianca and Christina answered.

Lovely.