For the barest of moments, Casek stood frozen, the chittering scratching of countless sharp-edged limbs against concrete filling his mind. Then he was off, scrambling through the debris-stricken corridors as fast as his atrophied leg muscles would carry him. He knew, somehow, in the back of his mind that even this much should have been impossible.

Any clear recollection of this place had been eroded long before he had woken, and what hazy impressions his mind had held onto told him this building had been new the last time he had been conscious within its walls. And if that was true, the condition of the place told him he had been sleeping for a long time. Casek supposed the hows and whys hardly mattered at the moment. All that did matter was escaping here with his life.

He had expected to tire quickly; and, sure enough, the searing pain of lactic acid buildup in his legs came quickly, and his lungs burned as he frantically gulped in what oxygen he could. Somehow, the intense exertion, and the tremor in his heart at the feeling of imminent danger, was familiar to him. Like slipping into an old pair of well-worn in boots. Whatever his old life had been, he was no stranger to fighting for his life.

What he hadn’t expected, however, was the sensation of his old strength returning to him. Yes, exhaustion was setting in fast, but so too was his body regaining his old strength the more he used it, as though the running, and the danger, were breathing life back into him.

Crumbling plaster and stonework whipped past either side of him, with Casek’s pace only slowing to sidestep chunks of rubble too large to step over and the yellowed bones of the unfortunate dead. However, despite the pace he was setting, the sounds behind him grew ever louder. Now Casek could make out something else behind the clawing of limbs. A seething mass of high-pitched giggles chorused beneath it, dripping with dark amusement.

Left again, Casek!

The harsh, whispered voice caught him off-guard for a moment. He had been so caught up in escaping; he had almost forgotten about the other presence in his mind. What on earth was it? He almost scoffed at his own question. What else could it be besides a symptom of his own madness?

Perhaps that was the reason he had been imprisoned in this place?

His arrival at a corridor that branched off into two desperate directions not a few seconds later had him questioning everything all over again. Madness or something else entirely? He took the left path. Madness or not, he had nothing else to rely on right now.

Casek barely noticed the rattle of falling stone from above—the only warning that his death could be imminent. A chunk of the ceiling fell away, and pale light streamed into this new section of corridor. Along with it came a pair of writhing black shapes, no higher than his knees, which landed heavily behind him on gangling limbs tipped with razor-sharp claws that gleamed obsidian beneath the scant light.

Depraved burbling laughter erupted from shapeless mouths, and icy terror set into Casek’s body. He forced his legs to pump faster, increasing his pace to get away from the creatures. They scrambled after him, too-long limbs moving with unnatural precision; their loping gait meaning they bound more than they ran, using the walls and floor to propel themselves after him.

The roof ahead of them crumbled, and a third of the creatures plunged to the floor ahead of him with a victorious screech. This one landed more adroitly than the pair behind him, ready to launch itself at its victim. Casek found himself caught by the intensity of its gaze, emerald eyes fixated upon him and filled with a hunger that stole the breath from him.

Instincts he couldn’t remember having saved his life. Casek’s body moved before conscious thought directed it. He crouched low and dived to the floor feet-first, sliding across the stonework on his left thigh. The creature’s momentum took it sailing over him, no time to readjust, its outstretched claws falling just short of gouging out one of his eyes.

He leaned forward, only stumbling slightly as his own momentum carried him upright and allowed him to keep up his pace. He ran on, a cacophony of furious howls ringing out behind him.

“What the fuck are those things?” Casek gasped as he dashed down the endless corridors.

Shades. The voice responded. The weakest of the demons that make up the Shadow. Too weak to inhabit the bodies of even the most insignificant of life, but even a few of them are enough to take the lives of those who come across them unprepared.

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“Can I fight them?”

Not as you are now. They’re almost completely impervious to anything you could do to them yourself. It’s why we’re running in the opposite direction to the exit. You’d never have made it out that way.

“Then where are we going?”

Casek got the distinct impression of something smiling in the back of his mind.

The armoury.

Another two corridors flashed by, and the sweat was pouring down Casek’s face as his muscles screamed out for rest before the voice came again.

There! Second door on the right. Bolt it behind you!

Casek locked eyes with the door as the relentless scraping and howling behind him reached a fever pitch. He chanced a glance behind him and swore. A teeming mass of black shapes swarmed after him, a veritable tidal wave of flailing claws and gnashing teeth, hissing and giggling in a hysterical, starved frenzy.

He bit back the agony and pushed his legs even harder, hurling himself at the door. How easily it gave way surprised him, and he stumbled through as it was flung open by his weight. Leaning too far forward, Casek had to fight to keep his balance before he could spin round and slam the door closed behind him. Adrenaline pumping, he slid across a weight steel deadbolt just as a series of thumps and thuds rattled the door on its hinges.

The creatures—shades—threw themselves at the door with reckless abandon, and Casek took a few stunned steps back as it shook from the assault.

It won’t hold them for long, but it will give us the time we need to be ready.

Heart pounding, Casek turned away from the door to examine the room he was in. There was very little light, but from what he could see, it was in much better condition than anything else he had seen so far. Steel weaponry lined the walls; swords, pikes, halberds—even the occasional mace or club—all rusted and dulled by time. These were familiar to him—the blades and pikes in particular.

There were no concrete memories of using either of the weapons he could pull upon to explain their draw. Instinct had him moving without conscious thought towards the closest of the swords, a rust-bitten and worn-looking thing. Plain, but sturdy. He reached out a hand towards the tattered leather grip when the voice came again.

That will do you no good. Not anymore.

“I’ve used one of these before,” he said, the words straddling the line between statement and question.

Yes. But—

“Who am I?” he demanded, hand falling away from the hanging blade, and whirling to face the rest of the room, as though the voice in his head was lurking in some far, dark corner.

Casek, I promise I will tell you what I can, but there isn’t time—

“Then speak quickly,” he said, voice low.

The threatening edge came naturally—more naturally than he would have liked to admit. He didn’t even know what he was threatening. His suspicion that the voice in his mind was more than simply his own madness had only grown in the short time he had been awake.

You are—were—a soldier. A warrior who fought against the Shadow when it first arrived on this world. But back then, there was no way to fight them. You fought bravely, but—

The voice hesitated. It was only slight, but Casek heard it all the same.

—you fell. In battle. The people here—they were working on you when the Shadow attacked.

Casek couldn’t find any hint of a lie, but his gut twisted with the certainty that it also wasn’t the truth—at least not all of it.

“How long have I been sleeping?”

I… have lost count, if I’m being honest. But, at my best reckoning, you have slept for at least a thousand years. I’m sorry.

The words hit Casek like a punch to the gut. He bent over double, suddenly breathless, his heart thundering in his ears. One thousand years. Any trace of the life he once had—whatever it had been—and the people in it had long since crumbled into dust and been ground into nothing by time.

“Did I—Did I have any family?”

You had a brother. But he fell in the same battle that wounded you. When you began your sleep, there was nobody.

Once again, Casek picked up on a strange hesitation around the mention of his supposed brother. Not quite a lie, but also not the truth. Here, though, a note of fear had crept into the voice.

The sound of Casek’s breathing filled the room, joined only by the incessant pounding of shadowed bodies against the door. He licked his cracked and dried lips, suddenly intensely aware he’d had nothing to drink for a thousand years. One thousand years.

He finally sunk to his knees and emptied his stomach—not that there was much there to empty—and tried desperately to regain a hint of composure through the burning at the back of his throat.

If this voice spoke true, there was nothing for him here. No family, no friends. No place to belong or call home. But, from the sounds of things, that hadn’t been far from the truth for whoever he had once been, either. It didn’t appear he had really lost all that much during his long sleep.

Crucially, however, he had gained something. A thousand years was an unfathomably long time. The world outside of these doors was, for him, brand new. A whole new world. A new life.

A second chance.

The door rattled again, louder this time, and a surge of resolve swelled up inside him. A second chance was only any good if he survived long enough to take advantage of it.

“I’m not done with my questions—not by a long shot—but it seems like the time for talking has run out. If swords are no use, show me what is so we can leave this place.”

Of course. You can call me Tauph, by the way. Let’s get out of here—it’s been far too long since we breathed the open air.