"Do you have to be so loud?" Carmine hissed, covering her ears as Jordan forced the lift doors open, scraping metal on metal. "Anything could be waiting out there! more monsters, or- or worse!"

"Hold yourself together, kid," Jordan retorted, pulling the door open another few inches. "You'll have to deal with more than just a bad noise soon enough."

The doors gave way to a familiar reception room, same as above. Only one corridor lead out, dim and dark with only a few of the wall's leylines to light it.

"Do we...go forward," she asked.

"You see any other way?" Jordan took his first hesitant step from the lift. "Was it too much to hope they were right here?"

Jordan waved for her to follow, and Carmine walked behind him. Her feet dragged every step as she feared what lay ahead.

Their path carried on forward without deviation or detour until, at last, the corridor opened to a room so grand Carmine thought she stepped into a castle from her old story books. She stood upon a balcony, looking down at a vast library. Silver shelves seamlessly climbed from floor to ceiling, each rack running nearly the full length of the room, with each level stacks with crystal tablets. Yarish runes pulsed along their surfaces, labeling each shelf for the information it held. Pillars spiraled to the high ceiling like cyclones falling from the sky. Carmine wondered how deep underground they were to house such a place. An archive! It had to be, but as much as Carmine wanted to be excited, the shattered bones sprawled between ailes wrung the wonder from her heart. No, Gods, they were here too.

She started forward, but went only a few steps before Jordan pulled her back by her coat.

"Don't fuckin' run off kid," he growled, "Didn't you hear me say this place could be dangerous?"

"But Nico and your master are down there," she said, frantically pulling from Jordan's hand. "They need us!"

"All the more reason for you to listen!" Jordan yanked her back behind him and kept one hand on her wrist. "You think rushing in and getting yourself hurt would help anyone?"

"If I could-”

"You'll just make things worse, and know it. You said you'd listen, now for their sake, do it!"

Carmine bit her lip, fighting the urge to break free and do exactly as Jordan said she would. The only thing that stayed her feet was the promise she'd made to Nico.

She'd make no trouble. This time she'd get him out.

"Calmed down? Good. Now follow me. We'll find them," Jordan assured her. "Just gotta keep our heads, literally and figuratively."

"What if we follow the bones?" Carmine pointed to the broken remains below. "If they fought , that could be their trail."

"Good call, kid. Now, stick close, and for gods' sake stay quiet as you can!"

Shards of brittle bone cracked under every step Carmine took. Even watching where she stepped, the silver floor hid behind scraps of ragged cloth and old weapons, all attached to more of the necromancer's thralls. How many of them were even down here? By now, they probably passed at least a dozen, all destroyed. Nico and Tera must have fought so hard against so many. Carmine and Jordan struggled with just one, but… even their masters could be overwhelmed. No, she couldn't think like that. Right now Nico needed her help, not her fear...hopefully he'd be alright with both.

For most of the walk neither Carmine nor Jordan dared speak, leaving only the incessant hum of the walls around them until a whisper reached her ear.

"That's not going to work you know," Nicholos' voice came from up ahead, hushed, but he was there! Carmine froze, her breath stuck in her chest. He's alive!

"At least I'm trying," Tera's voice hissed back. She made it too, but then, why hadn't they returned earlier?

"What's the problem kid?" Jordan looked back, seeing that Carmine had stopped.

"I hear them whispering," Carmine pointed ahead. The trail led around the corner and that's exactly where she heard the voices.

"You sure? I don't hear anything." Jordan leaned forward to listen.

"Come on, just up ahead-" Carmine started again, but Jordan blocked her.

"What'd I say?"

"Fine, you go first."

Jordan swallowed, realizing what he volunteered for, but at least he moved. Slowly. At a snail's pace.

"Fine, I- I'll go." Carmine pushed past.

"Kid!" Jordan grabbed after her, but she turned the corner faster than he could keep up.

Her ears heard true; the masters stood before her now, but she still had just as little hope of getting them as before.

A twisted cage of intertwined bones loomed over them both, digging into the walls and floor. Carmine could make out the skulls of thralls turned inward, watching their captives. Something else caught Carmine's attention: red liquid streaked across the floor, running towards the cage.

Towards Nicholos.

"Nico," Carmine cried, running closer, looking in, trying to get a view of the older man's face. She reached for the bars of the cage, intending to pull the ramshackle thing open. Before she could even touch the bones, she recoiled as a painful jolt sapped the strength from her arms. "Don't touch the bars," Tera warned, her eyes darting between Carmine and Jordan with a mix of confusion and relief. When she moved aside, Carmine saw Nicholos looking back at her, sweat pouring off his brow as he gripped a patch of reddened robe on his side.

"Hello, my dear," he said, giving her a pained smirk. "Apologies for my sorry state."

"Nicholos," Carmine whimpered, nearly touching the bars again, but resisting the urge. Her eyes clouded, blurring Nico's face. "Wh-what happened."

"We fell for a trap" Tera grumbled. She stepped to the edge of the bars and motioned and the splintered bones around them. "We found the workshop, but the necromancer left some surprises for us, and they pushed us into this corner. For every thrall we broke, they built this damn cage out of their own bodies!"

"Why don’t you just break it," Jordan asked his master.

"Tried. The bones are warded somehow." Tera pointed to the glyphs engraved into the bound bones. "Sir Nicholos tried dispelling it, but there's a null enchantment over them; he can't use his magic in here."

Carmine knelt next to the bars, as close as she could get to Nicholos. Her teacher smiled at her, but all she could do was wince. She tried to put on a brave face, but she could hear his every labored breath, smell the blood spill onto the floor.

Jordan stepped closer to the bars, his voice dropping lower than he thought Carmine could hear. He was wrong.

"How bad is the old man?"

Tera looked back at Nicholos before answering. "He's got time, I patched him up with what I could...but unless we get out of here..." She grimaced, trailing off.

"How do we get you out," Carmine interrupted, wiping her tears..

Tera furrowed her brow, "This...isn't something for a child to-"

"Master," Jordan cut her off. "You know we're past that point. You need all the help you can get, and we're it. Besides, even if I were as young as the kid, I wouldn't leave you here."

"Seems we're in their hands now, Tera," Nicholos added his voice to theirs. He locked eyes with Carmine, keeping that reassuring smirk on his face. "Not that anything I say would convince you otherwise, could it?" Carmine smiled despite her unease and shook her head.

"Thought not." With one hand on the wall, Nicholos picked himself up and stepped closer. "This trap was sprung without its maker to cast it, which means the intent of this spell was imprinted on an object."

"Likely in the workshop, but we didn't get a good look," Tera added. "You have to find it, Jordan, and break what's doing this." She waved at the cage confining her.

"I am pretty good at breaking things," Jordan nodded, smirking with confidence.

"Be careful." Tera's sternness left no room for jokes. Jordan touched the back of his head, as he did whenever Tera smacked the stupid out of him. "There are still some creatures about. I couldn't get all of them before we were locked up here. You can manage, if you keep your wits about you."

"You- you really think I can?"

"This is what I trained you for Jordan." Tera gave him a nod.

"Carmine," Nicholos called for her attention. He held a small pouch between shaking fingers, sliding it carefully between the bars. "Take this...I know you've been reading ahead."

She accepted the small pouch. Inside, she found components Nicholos used for his spells; among them was some weird oil, a strange egg shaped stone, and spider silk. "Use this." Nicholos poked her forehead. "For people like us, it's our greatest weapon."

"I'll get you out," Carmine promised. "I'll get you out and we'll go home."

"I know you will." Nicholos smiled at her again, easing himself back to the floor. "Listen, thralls like these aren't really alive. They can't think or solve problems. They react, that's all they can do. Keep that in mind and Most importantly: Keep. Yourself. Safe. More than anything else, do that for me."

"I will," Carmine assured him again.

"The thralls attacked us when we tried to go deeper down the main corridor." Tera recounted as she pointed back the way they came.

"We destroyed as many as we could, but what remained retreated back after we were trapped. In all likelihood, they're between you and whatever is doing this."

"We'll take care," Jordan told her, standing a little straighter, a little more like Tera. With a nod, he followed Tera's directions towards where they found the workshop. "Come on kid."

Carmine gave Nicholos one last look. She had to succeed. She wouldn't be useless again.

Her fist clenched against the doubts creeping up her spine, and she deafened her thoughts to them. The only way to go was forward.

The pair of apprentices found their way back to the central path. Just like Tera warned, it led to another wide corridor, bigger than the others she'd seen, as if it were made for giants. The leylines all throughout the archive snaked their way down the path ahead, filling it with their blinking light.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

"If we just retrace their steps, chances are we'll run right into the rest of the thralls." Jordan scratched his chin, looking at the murderous corridor beckoning ahead.

"I...th-think I have an idea," Carmine said, opening the pouch Nicholos gave her. "Nico said these monsters don't think like us. They can only do whatever spell says they can." Carmine reached in and covered her hand in spider silk before webbing it over the sole of her shoes. "If they're protecting the workshop, we can make them think there's a threat to it in here! They'll have to come out, and we can sneak past!"

"Not bad...except how are we supposed to keep hidden? If they spot us, doesn't that ruin your little plan?"

"Yeah...but we can try to hide where they might not look."

"It's a hallway, where could we even-"

"Up." Carmine opened her fingers with spider silk webbed between them."

"What are you doing? That's disgusting." Jordan flinched from her.

"What's the matter? Scared of a little spider web?" Carmine waved her hand closer until Jordan batted it away. "It's a spell- er will be. You'll see, just give me your shoes. Oh, hands too." She learned that lesson already.

"What!? No!"

"Come on," Carmine groaned, but she saw how Jordan acted at the cage. She remembered where to poke. "Ms. Tera would be really proud of you if we did this."

Jordan narrowed his eyes at Carmine, nose flaring but, with a sigh, he sat down and handed over his boots. He didn't get them back until spider silk thoroughly covered them. Then came the hands. Jordan grimaced, his face twisting as Carmine weaved a web over them. She hated the feeling just as much, but she took a grim satisfaction in Jordan's disgust, so it evened out.

"You better have a good reason for looking so smug," Jordan warned.

"I told you it's for a spell, look," Carmine opened her book and recited the words intended to change her hands and feet. A tingle began in her fingers, climbing to her wrists, as the spider silk sunk into her skin, leaving a familiar webbed pattern in its place. She looked down to her shoes to see the same.

"Oh, this is fucked," Jordan whined, trying not to gag. "this isn't permanent right?"

"Well...maybe," Carmine lied. He doesn't need to know "It works for a few hours and then….there's a risk the markings could stay longer."

"How much longer?"

"Come on." She let him sweat.

"Fine. And how do you propose we draw them out," Jordan waved across the room. "Stomping around yelling 'come get me' isn't a plan I'm doing."

"Well...I have one idea." Carmine wrung her hands together, making a hidden gesture between them. "If you were made to guard an area, and heard a really loud crash, what would you do?"

"I'd check it out to see- wait-"

A mote of arcane force left Carmine's finger just as realization, and resignation, crossed Jordan's face. The small bead of violet light traveled back towards one of the archive shelves, slamming into one of the higher corners. Its sharp ring echoed through the entire floor like glass shattering in a graveyard. The shelf teetered forward, straining to remain upright until it could bear it no longer. One shelf fell into another, and into to another over and over until the priceless dominoes reached a wall, spilling their tablet bounty all over the archive floor. As quick as the discordant cacophony came, silence reclaimed its oppressive reign.

"You are gonna get us killed!"

"Then we'd better hide first," Carmine whispered back, pointing above the corridor. She jumped onto the wall, grinning with relief as her hands and feet found purchase. They both started climbing just in time to hear the clattering steps of thralls screeching closer. Carmine reached the apex first, looking at Jordan to do the same.

"Fuck this." The exorcist grumbled, thrashing up the wall, sliding down every few seconds.

"Slow down," Carmine whispered, "let yourself get a grip."

"I'm not used to being a fucking bug!" He hissed back, face turning more and more pale with every failed step, but he made it eventually, and just in time.

Near a dozen thralls heralded their coming, screaming from empty gullets. They poured into the archive, lumbering on mismatched limbs, warped into weapons. All the doubt Carmine suppressed came rushing back at the sight of so many at once. Her stomach rumbled, and air escaped her in unwanted wimpers until Jordan put his hand over her mouth.

"Quiet" he whispered, but his hand trembled as much as she did.

The thralls spread towards the fallen shelves like contagious to a wound. Their empty eyes passed over the wreckage before they spread out deeper into the archive. Nico and Tera would be safe in the cage. They had to be. Every minute felt like an hour, but the bony sentinels took their time skulking out of sight. They had as much as they needed, after all.

The same couldn't be said for the spell keeping Carmine out of their reach.

"W-we should go," Carmine mumbled, pushing Jordan's hand from her face. "The spell won't last forever."

"Seems you're planning wasn't the worst after all." Jordan gave her an approving nod.

"This was a terrible idea," Carmine retorted. His approval only confirmed that.

"But it worked. I can take it from here If you can't go forward-"

"I can go." Carmine affirmed quickly. As much as her legs were jelly and numb, she couldn't stop, not until Nicholos was safe.

"Fine, but stay quiet. We don't need them hearing us and turning back."

"If they're gonna hear anything it'll be your clinking butt!"

Carmine clung to her false confidence. She kept the facade up, fooling herself into thinking things we're going to plan. Beneath it, she feared her every movement would be her last. She held captive every breath until she could bear it no more and only then dared to take another. Her eyes ached from the unnatural blue dimness the walls gave off, but the road soon came to an end. Light spilled in from the end of the tunnel, brighter than the rest of the ruin.

"You see that?" Jordan asked.

"You think I could miss it?" Carmine whispered back. "Lets climb down."

"Alright, just give me a minute. I'm still getting used to this weird crap."

Carmine huffed at the exorcist, still a fair bit behind her. She hadn't really done this before either, but Jordan's armor really slowed him down. She made it to the floor before he was even halfway there. He'd be right behind her, but right now every second mattered.

Carmine inched towards the end room. All the leylines carved through the walls led here, to a massive crystal embedded deep into the far wall. What little she learned of this ruin told her that the room before her now must be the core of the settlement. The air tingled with the same sensation the ruin gave off anytime it used magic, and glowed like a giant version of the same stones used to control the artifacts in the rest of the ruin. In front of it emerged a tilted pane of crystal jutting out from the wall at chest height to Carmine. The crystal ran along every side of the room to the edge of the corridor, alight with Yarish script and other symbols Carmine hadn't learned yet. What caught her attention most sat in the middle of the room; an immaculate body of a woman encased in glass upon a stone slab. Familiar items piled around it; a bedroll, books, stacks of paper and pack of tools alike to what Carmine had seen at Vale's work. This had to be it, the necromancer's workshop. If nothing else, it smelled the part. Where the rest of the ruin smelled of little more than dust and obsessive cleanliness, the musk of dirt, sweat, and a hint of decay invaded Carmine's nose. It wasn’t going to get any better in the room, better to start the search now.

Movement caught the corner of her eye as she crossed the threshold. Thralls. Of course there'd be guards!

"Stupid!" Carmine chastised herself as she tried to step back, but there was no way the undead missed her, not with their shrieks in her ears. The pair of them came running, fast on their dog legs and she knew she couldn't outrun them. She tried and tried to think of a spell, but her fear overan her thoughts. Her words faltered as the thralls' feral claws drew closer.

Before it reached her neck, Jordan came crashing down from the ceiling, landing on the first thrall, scattering it into pieces as the second redirected its wrath.

Jordan blocked a spike meant for his heart and shoved the creature back as he scrambled to his feet to put himself between Carmine and the skeleton.

"O Vembria great protector of man…" Jordan whispered the start of a prayer, his face calm as he held the thrall at bay, but as the creature struck again and again, Jordan's expression wrinkled with frustration. "Ah, Fuck it! Any ancient that's listening, if you can hear me, give me some fucking help!" At the end of Jordan's plea, a new light brightened the tunnel as his sword's steel turned pure white. He casted no magic, Carmine knew he didn't have the focus to pull that off, and yet something enchanted his sword. "The hell?" Jordan flinched, frowning at his weapon.

The thrall didn't share his confusion. It stepped forward, snapping one of its fellow's bones, and pounced, claws aimed for Jordan’s neck. The young exorcist barely reacted in time, blocking the claw with his blade. At the slightest touch, the thrall recoiled in...pain? A dead creature shouldn't have reacted. The thrall slinked back, its claw turning to dust where it touched Jordan's sword. The creature watched as its forearms continued to crumble, its attention away from the fight. Unfortunately Jordan looked just as hesitant.

"Do it now!" Carmine shouted at the slack jawed exorcist.

"Yeah, right!" Jordan attention snapped back, seeing his foe falter, and struck true. One swing of his pearlescent sword severed the skeleton's spine. As the undead tumbled end over end, its unholy bones scattered to dust before they reached the ground.

As quick as it started, it was over. Jordan leaned on the wall, letting out a sigh and wiping sweat off his brow.

"Did it scratch you," Carmine asked, stepping around the shattered bones of the first skeleton.

"No, just…" Jordan stood straight, resting on his still glowing sword. "That was intense." He lifted his blade in front of him, squinting at it as the dim glow continued.

"What was that?" Carmine asked, reaching towards the sword only for Jordan to jerk it back.

"Careful...I don't know what this might do if you touch it."

"But what is it?"

"I think it's a blessing."

"What, like...magic?"

"No. Well, maybe?" Jordan flourished the sword in hand, watching the white streak behind it as it moved. "I've seen veterans do stuff like this before, but usually through devoted prayer."

"And you managed it? With your panicked rambling?"

"I guess Vembria knew my plea was genuine." Jordan never looked so sure of himself. After all the time Carmine spent learning more and more complicated spells, having Jordan pull off something advanced with a half-assed prayer felt like she'd been cheated. Her annoyance had only moments to last. Shrieks echoed back through the corridors behind.

"Fuck, they heard all that. Hurry, kid, come on." Jordan pushed Carmine forward, but she needed no goading. She covered her ears against the approaching cries. At this rate, the thralls would catch them before she could find their source!

"Shit, uh…look, you know magic, find the imprint-thing," Jordan demanded, but his eyes were firmly fixed behind them.

"I don't know!" Carmine stormed into the room, already rifling through packs and satchels.

"Figure it out quick I'll...I'll try to earn you some time."

"What!? But you'll-"

"I can limit their numbers in the hall, just hurry up and look."

Before Carmine could stop him, Jordan ran off and left her all alone. Why'd he decide to be a hero now, after telling her not to. Fool! He'd better come out fine by the end of this, if anything for all the curses she needed to pay back.

She opened onepack, finding it filled with dried food and little else. Nothing but half-finished incantations and sloppily drawn spell circles covered the crumpled papers, as useless as the rest. She tossed them aside and moved to the slab. Whatever kept the magic here working had to be among the things there. She scattered most of the small objects to the floor, tools and pens, things obviously mundane. A wooden box that gave some hope quickly turned out to be full of pipeweed andoff the table it went. She flipped through the pages of another journal out of desperation, finding nothing.

The cries behind met with clanging steel and grunts of exertion. Jordan's fight had begun, and Carmine was no closer to finding any source. What could it be!? She cleared off the slab of everything except the body. The body...

Carmine climbed onto the slab, pressing her face to the glass case surrounding the pale woman trapped inside. There! Embedded in the lady's chest, just below the neck, rested a small white orb with innumerable faces swimming beneath its surface.

Carmine pulled at the case, but it refused to budge more than a crack. She needed to get it open, now. Reaching for her side, Carmine pulled her Father's knife free of her belt and jammed it into the small opening. Every bit of strength in her small body went into pulling the handle back and praying Father's blade didn't snap.

With a pop, the case swung open. Carmine scrambled for the orb, trying to pry it from the woman's chest with only a whispered apology, but with no success. She thrust her hand towards the orb trying another force spell against it. The mote collided with the orb, but it did nothing but jostle the body. She tried again and again, but she couldn't even scratch the stupid orb.

A cry, a human cry, echoed back to Carmine's ear. Pain. Injury. Jordan was going to die, and then she would too. And Nicholos, and Tera. She had to break it now, and she knew only one spell that could do it.

She chanted the incantation for the lighting spell she'd practiced in the forest, focusing solely on destroying the object. She breathed the last word, and just as she'd practiced, nothing emerged from her fingertips.

Not now!

Carmine tried to recall the feeling she had the first time the spell worked, tried to conjure up the same violent urge she had before but that alone did nothing. The attempt rang hollow in her mind, empty of any real urge for destruction. She needed her desire to be true, and she knew one place in her mind that would give that to her.

Home.

Picturing all those ignorant bastards around her house, shouting and throwing stones flared her smoldering temper. She remembered every face as clear as the night it happened, especially the ones that mobbed her father, and the look of the headman before mother killed him, but most of all she remembered her uncle alongside the mob. A man her family trusted.

A man she wanted gone.

Pain shot up Carmine's arm, knocking her off the slab, as a bolt of lightning shattered the small orb, and disintegrated the body along with it. The faces contained within emerged, like smoke, shrieking a chorus of hounding cries. They lasted only a moment, before vanishing utterly, leaving only the quiet hum of the walls.

Carmine waited a second, a minute, listening for the skeletons, or Jordan, or anything. Instead, nothing.

She picked herself up from the floor, holding her arm to her side.

She'd done it. She saved everyone.

And it made her sick. The relief in her heart paled under the feelings of anger and injustice three years fresh. All she wanted to do now was go back to her rickety little shack and forget all about this.

Carmine turned to the exit when one of the journals caught her eye, one she tossed aside without much thought.

On its face, she saw nothing of interest on it, save for a note sticking out from its margins saying.

"It's not too late," Carmine read aloud.

Over her shoulder, Carmine looked at the remains of the glass case. Her thoughts turned to the woman left inside, kept so carefully from time and harm. Carmine didn't need to be an exorcist to understand the intent here.

She understood it. She felt it. Every moment of every day. Sometimes in the back of her mind, sometimes in front of her eyes. The world didn't care, it just took. Was it so bad to want to take a little back?

A cursory check down the corridor empty. Not a single soul to see her shaking hand wrest the journal from the workshop and stuff it away in her coat.

Wretched prize in hand, she ran back to Nicholos, every step heavier than the last.