Ferret tried not to notice the lengthening shadows as they entered the vast hallway. He hoped they would have enough time to find what he needed and get out before the banshee found them.

They passed through the crumbling, jagged remains of what used to be grand and imposing doors at the entrance. Ferret's mind conjured up images of the intense battle that had taken place here - the fierce, stout dwarves fighting with all their might against the evil banshee, determined to protect their territory. The air was heavy with a sense of ancient despair and loss, and Ferret shuddered at the carnage within these walls.

"Good," he muttered. "I hope it hurts." There was no love lost between the dwarves and goblins.

The underground complex was dark and forbidding, with jagged walls made of black stone stretching endlessly into the depths below. Ferret's goblin eyes adjusted to the dimness, but he wished he had a light, even if just for the warmth. He didn't risk another torch, thinking it had probably drawn the monster's attention.

The stale and dry air left a bitter taste in his mouth as he breathed it in. He could almost taste the ancient history of this place.

"Notice the lack of spider webs or rats," Fizzit whispered. "The undead banshee kills everything."

They cautiously ventured into the broad passage, its walls hewn from the dark stone of the Wall mountains. Ferret's sharp eyes observed the intricate symbols and protective runes carved into the walls. But he knew these were just surface measures; deeper inside lay even more formidable defences.

Ferret couldn't understand why he could not decipher the symbols, especially since he could read other languages with ease. Damn the demon, he cursed the demon silently. Would it have killed him to explain?

As Ferret and Fizzit delved deeper into the underground complex, the temperature dropped further, sending a chill through their bones. The oppressive silence weighed heavily on them, broken only by their cautious footsteps.

Ferret spotted a narrow staircase from the grand passageway, the Great Hall. He cautiously ascended, instinctively holding his breath to avoid alerting the banshee. The carved stone walls guided his ascent as he reached for each step with a trembling hand.

At the top of the winding staircase, they found a barracks. Rows of cots lined the walls, their wooden frames and crumpled straw mattresses decaying in the stagnant air. Musty and dank, the smell of rot permeated every inch of the space. They stumbled upon their first discovery here - a skeleton sprawled on the ground. The bones were small and stocky. But now, all that remained were rusted remains of finely crafted armour, with leather straps and padded undercoats long since turned to dust.

They spotted more corpses, each in postures suggesting they had met their end in agony. All of them pressed their hands against their heads, perhaps in a desperate attempt to keep out the deadly cry of the banshee.

"There are axes and swords here," Fizzit whispered. "Grab some of those, and let's get out of here. We are running out of time."

"No." Ferret hissed back. Mundane weapons would not satisfy the chief, no matter how finely crafted. He had promised his tribe magic.

Carefully, they navigated through the intricate network of rooms and passageways, their paths lined with sturdy walls expertly carved from solid black rock by the skilled dwarves. Every step was taken with precision and caution, as they were acutely aware of the preciousness of time. Hastening too much might cause loud noises that would alert their enemies, a risk they dare not take. The soft shuffles of Ferret's bare feet and the occasional water drip echoed through the dark corridors.

Ferret saw the rooms improving and the carvings more intricate as they progressed. The soft mushing underfoot must be the rotten remains of carpets and rugs.

"This is more like it," Ferret said.

They found a dwarven chapel, its carven Wall adorned with intricate depictions of epic battles and heroic figures. The ceiling was high and vaulted, and the intricate patterns continued etched into the stone. Long dead candles covered an altar at the front of the room. Incense still lingered in the air, competing with the dry must.

Ferret approached the altar.

"Don't touch it," Fizzit warned. "God knows what a dwarf altar would do if a goblin touched it."

"Relax," Ferret whispered back, yet as he reached out, he was careful not to touch the holy stone. Dwarves were vindictive enough to leave a trap for an unwary goblin.

He pried a dead candle loose before lighting it with a flint stone.

"Are you mad?" Fizzit asked. "The light drew that horrible thing onto us last time."

"So you keep saying. The answer is yes, I am mad."

"I knew it," the tiny homunculus moaned. "I've attached myself to a goblin with a death wish."

However, the small amount of light soon paid dividends as they found what they guessed was the commander's office. They immediately searched the long-dead dwarf's belongings, searching his desk, bed, boxes, and other stuff.

"Yes!" Fizzit's excitement was palpable as he discovered a small pouch filled with coins. If their search for magic proved fruitless, the gold might be enough to appease the chief for a bit longer. Of more interest was the small vial containing a glowing purple liquid. "A potion," Fizzit said. "But who knows what kind?"

Ferret looked up. "The label says Lesser Healing."

"So, you speak Dwarven now. Why am I not surprised?"

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Ferret ignored him, engrossed in reading a series of letters he found on the commander's desk with the candle's light.

"What do we know about banshees?" he asked without looking up.

"Not much. They're a type of undead. Sentient but with an endless desire to kill."

"Any idea how are they created?" Ferret inquired.

"What is this, an exam?" Fizzit fluttered over from an overturned trunk. When the goblin didn't respond, he sighed and continued. "According to legend, it happens when an evil elf sorceress is cursed."

"All Elven sorceresses are evil," Ferret muttered.

"They're trapped as an immortal undead. The endless torment is supposed to be some punishment." Fizzit shrugged. "Seems kind of elaborate to me. I mean, how many specifically female sorcerers go crazy?" he shook his head at the strangeness of elves. "The big question is why it attacked a dwarven complex in the middle of nowhere?"

Ferret nodded as it made sense. "I don't think it did attack. I think it was already here." He held up some papers for Fizzit to see. "It appears the dwarves kidnapped an elf princess. There must have been a problem because they somehow ended up a cursed banshee."

"Sly bastards." Fizzit admired. "Being caught with an undead princess might undermine their precious Great Alliance. I wonder why they didn't destroy her."

"Probably had some secret they wanted." Ferret picked up another page. "This one is from the royal court, requiring the garrison commander to record every utterance of the banshee."

"I bet they didn't want to risk getting caught with her in their lands, so they built this place to hold her," Fizzit said. "It's a prison."

"And far away from their homeland, on the far side of the River, so they won't get caught." Ferret agreed. "Although building into the Wall itself wasn't a brilliant move. Who knows what being so close to the Black Fortress might do to an undead elfish sorcerer chick?"

"Well, somehow, she got loose and killed them all."

In a sudden realization, they noticed the hallway was becoming brighter. An eerie green glow, unearthly and otherworldly, slowly spread throughout the space. With a jolt of fear, they realized the banshee was closing in on them. They had lost track of time!

Its wailing screeches grew louder with every step, filling the halls and their hearts with terror. The walls vibrated with its haunting song, making their hair stand on end. Panic set in as they frantically searched to escape the approaching danger.

"There's no time." Ferret hissed, ripping off the tattered cloth wrapping his thin body. He dove under the decrepit bed, using the ragged fabric as a blanket. As he crouched underneath the mattress, the cloth draped over him like a suffocating shroud, intensifying the sense of fear and dread coursing through his veins.

"Are you kidding?" Fizzit hissed before diving after him. "You're hiding with a rag over your head?" The homunculus scrambled under the bed just as the terrible banshee entered the room.

The banshee's ethereal form floated through the room, her long, flowing hair and tattered gown billowing in an unseen wind. Her eyes glowed with an otherworldly light as she let out a blood-curdling scream which reverberated through the chamber.

Ferret and Fizzit held their breath, their hearts pounding in their chests. They felt the banshee's presence drawing closer, her unearthly wails piercing their souls. It was as if the air had turned icy cold, and their breath misted before them.

As the banshee moved closer to the bed, Ferret clutched Fizzit's arm tremblingly. The goblin's eyes widened in fear, his tiny body shaking uncontrollably. But they remained hidden beneath the bed, hoping against hope the banshee wouldn't discover them.

The banshee's chilling presence loomed above the bed, her piercing eyes scanning the room with a hunger for souls. With a last shriek shaking the walls, she turned and disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind a sense of lingering dread and unease.

When they were sure the thing was gone, Ferret and Fizzit cautiously emerged from their hiding place, their bodies still trembling with fear. The room felt heavy with the aftermath of the banshee's presence as if her haunting wails had left an indelible mark on the very essence of the place.

"We were lucky," Ferret whispered, his voice barely audible. "She didn't find us."

"You bloody idiot!" Fizzit yelled. "You nearly got us killed. I knew you were making too much noise."

Ferret didn't respond to the accusations. He was, instead, sitting on the bed, waiting for the tremors in his hand to pass.

"I'm sorry," he said to Fizzit, who had flown to a tall shelf to sulk. "I remembered banshees are ethereal. So, they don't have a physical body; their sense of smell must suck. I hoped the smell of my cloth would mix with the mustiness and conceal us."

"That's stupid on multiple levels," Fizzit responded. "Most undead can sense life force. Your little cloth probably didn't do shit."

"They can see life force?" Ferret had never heard of anything like that.

"Yes!" Fizzit yelled again. "And even if it wasn't true, it was a shitty thing to do to me."

Ferret felt a tug of guilt in his chest, a feeling he disliked and didn't quite know how to handle. He wanted to shake it off and ignore it, but the weight of it lingered. This novel sensation made him uneasy, and he couldn't help but wonder if he was feeling shame.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. Despite being together only a few days, Fizzit was Ferret's best friend. He needed to fix this.

"What?" Fizzit cocked an ear mockingly. "I'm sorry, I can't hear you."

Ferret lifted his head and spoke clearly. "I said I'm sorry. I should have told you what I was doing. It was a shitty thing to do to a friend."

Friend. It wasn't straightforward for a goblin to say, but there it was.

Fizzit nodded. "Alright then, don't do it again." he fluttered over to land on Ferret's shoulder. "I nearly had a heart attack hiding under the bed."

"It wasn't so bad," Ferret lied.

"Easy for you to say. You didn't have a skid mark pressed against your face. Now, will you find some clothes, or will you do the rest of the adventure naked?"

Ferret chuckled, the tension between them dissipating. Finding clothing would be a good idea. Goblins didn't notice nudity, but he needed to mend fences.

The tiny homunculus rolled his eyes, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Otherwise, you might terrify the banshee with your fashion choices."

"Well, she's an elf princess. The sight of a real man might do her good." Ferret playfully swatted at Fizzit, grateful for his light-heartedness.

As they rummaged through the room for suitable attire, Ferret thought about the banshee and the cursed elf princess. How did the dwarves hold her in place? They must have used great magic. Magic, he wanted to get his hands on.

They found a long strip of linen Ferret wrapped around himself as a loin cloth.

"It's not much, but at least it's clean," Fizzit said as the goblin picked up his suitcase. "Come on, let's get out of here."

They hurried through the ruined living quarters before coming to the stairs leading down to the Great Hall.

"Now we can leave," Fizzit said, turning towards the exit. "Let's go before it comes back."

He then realized the goblin hadn't moved.

"I think we should go deeper," Ferret said.

"I knew it. You're screwing me again!"

"No." Ferret protested. "I said I wouldn't do anything without asking you. Now I'm asking you, I think we should keep going."

"But why?" Fizzit demanded. "We should go while we have the chance."

"The banshee needs to kill to satisfy its curse. It's probably outside now, looking for prey. I'm betting it won't return until it needs to hide from daylight."

"You're betting." Fizzit mocked.

"Yes, I'm betting. And I know if I'm wrong, then we might get killed. But if the deep part of the complex is unguarded, then this is our chance to get the good stuff. We need to do this."

Fizzit looked like he was going to keep arguing but reconsidered. If the banshee were gone until dawn, they would have hours.

"Okay." he conceded. "But one hint of any danger and we run for it, agreed?"

Ferret nodded enthusiastically, just glad to have him back onside. "Agreed."