Rasp spun around and grabbed blindly for Faris. His fingers caught only air. Shit, shit, shit!

“Faris!”

“On the ground, Dinglehead!”

Faris continued to scream obscenities at the top of his lungs, both at Rasp and the carnivorous vines attempting to render him into a meal. Rasp followed the sounds of the struggle but with so many algae-encrusted buildings clustered together so close, the damn echo was throwing him off. He’d get a few steps only to realize Faris’s voice was coming from somewhere else. Panicked, Rasp would then run the other way, lose his sense of direction, stop, and try it all over again.

“What are you doing? I’m over here!”

“You say that like I can see you!” Rasp’s own frantic words sparked the start of an idea.

He couldn’t see worth shit, granted, but a light source would help. Sunlight was obviously out of the question, as was fire, for entirely different reasons. The only form of light available underground was the dull, bioluminescent glow of the surrounding algae. That was nature, right? Whisper claimed Rasp could manipulate all forms of nature and surely even slippery-slimy algae counted!

Rasp closed his eyes and reached out with his magic, willing the algae to respond. Normally his fingertips burned when channeling an element. Unfortunately, as nothing about his present situation qualified as normal, this applied to whatever in chaos was going on with his tactile sensitivity as well. His skin went cold, suddenly wet and slick with a texture that was a little too close to snot for comfort. Had he not known any better, Rasp would have sworn he’d just shoved his arm elbow-deep up the wrong end of a—

Focus, idiot! His racing thoughts chimed in. Magic now, needlessly graphic analogies later!

Ignoring the sudden urge to wipe his palms furiously against the fabric of his trousers, Rasp harnessed the surrounding glow and condensed it into a single ball of pulsing light between his hands.

The glow cooled against his slick palms as Rasp channeled everything he had into generating his own light source. A split second later, when the magic had grown frigid enough to singe his skin, Rasp released the ball of light into the air. It erupted overhead in an ethereal mist of glowing green and blue particles.

It wasn’t much, certainly not as bright as a fire ball would have been, but it provided just enough light for Rasp to pinpoint Faris’s struggling form amongst the gloom.

He surged forward, blade in hand. To Rasp’s surprise, the lingering cloud of glowing particles followed, as if tethered to him via an invisible lead. He didn’t question the logistics of it. It was a stroke of luck and he would take whatever boon fate threw his way. Guided by the faint, bioluminescent glow, Rasp leapt over Faris and hacked at the vines coiled around the faun’s lower legs. Wet, frothy sap drenched his skin and clothes as he worked, intermixing with the hot sweat dripping from his brow. He got a mouthful of sour plant splatter in the process, too. It burned as it slowly oozed down the back of his tongue.

Rasp spat the foul taste from his mouth, certain he could already feel his tongue going limp.

Venom, great. At least that explained why his leg was swollen and felt like it was being actively ripped apart by fire ants.

The cloud of light sank lower as its luminescent particles lost their spark and started to fade. Rasp’s steel blade shimmered in the ghoulish glow as he sliced away the final pieces of vine clinging to Faris’s leg. At last, Rasp severed its hold and kicked it away. He watched, mouth agape in horror, as the blurry vines slithered off in retreat, leaving a trail of white, glistening froth in their wake.

“Thank you.” Faris’s voice was weak and raspy. He took a desperate gulp of air before concluding his heartfelt sentiments. “For not setting me on fire.”

“Don’t give me any bright ideas, Dingle. Now come on, up, up, up. I’m pretty sure the cloud of light might have just given our position away.” Rasp reached down and heaved Faris to his feet. The faun teetered for a moment, attempted a single step, and then crumpled beneath his own weight.

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“Shhhhhit,” the faun said.

Rasp frantically pulled at Faris’s slack arm. “Get up! What are you doing?”

Faris’s words were slow and slurred. “I don’t feel so good.”

A warning croak rang out above them as Father neared. As much as Rasp wanted to demand where the fuck the old man had been this whole time, heeding Father’s message took priority. For now, anyway. “We have to go, come on. Get up. Dad says the cult is right around the corner.”

“Take the pack and go.” With the last of his strength, Faris shoved the pack into Rasp’s arms in a move that sent the latter sprawling backwards.

Rasp’s quick footing spared himself from landing on his ass. “Are you fucking crazy? I just spent all my magic saving your worthless hide. I’m not leaving you!”

“The dwarfs won’t kill me.”

“I’m about to kill you if you don’t get up off your haunches right now!”

Father’s wings beat the air as he caught Rasp’s hair between his talons and pulled, screeching for him to run.

“For once in your mucking life, just listen to me,” Faris said. “Go!”

Against every instinct screaming at him to stay and fight, Rasp obeyed. Cursing Faris under his breath, he stumbled along, barely processing Father’s directions as the towering, algae-riddled buildings whizzed past. This was madness. Absolute madness. He, a blind man, drained of magic, taking his chances alone in an underground city rife with predatory plants, a fanatic cult, and gods knows what else. Even with Father’s aid, Rasp wouldn’t last the day, much less the hour on his own.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this.

Croak! Father’s warning came a moment too late.

The ground shifted beneath Rasp’s feet, throwing him sideways. He fell onto his side and slid several paces, clutching his worn pack for all he was worth. Rasp’s aching body slid amongst the wet moss and rubble. He waited, with bated breath, listening for whatever monster was about to try to claim him as its next meal.

Whatever the beast was, it was certainly taking its sweet time revealing itself.

Rasp slung to pack on his back and retrieved his knife. He would lose, undoubtedly, but at least he could go down fighting. Maybe even give the beast an upset stomach on his way down. The ground shifted again. Rock and stone scraped and screeched together as the decayed street rearranged itself near his feet. The deafening noise lasted for several heartbeats before it, too, fell eerily quiet.

The temperature changed. A cool draft swept over him, pulling at his loose clothes and hair, beckoned him closer.

Rasp squinted at the ominous pile of rubble that had formed at his feet. Unfortunately, doing so did nothing to make his surroundings any clearer. “Dad?”

The raven landed on his shoulder and uttered a series of low knocking sounds from the back of his throat.

“The street just opened up,” Rasp repeated. He might have been astonished had this been the first time it’d had happened.

Deep down, he knew he should have turned and run, but Rasp was rooted to the spot with fear. Every hair on his arms raised as a familiar magic pulled at him, whispering in his ear. Little one, you did it. You found me, it crooned. Come inside now, hurry. And all of your troubles will vanish.

The voice was eerily familiar and yet, for the life of him, Rasp couldn’t recall why. He’d heard it before, but the harder he tried to remember, the further it slipped away, like trying to recall a dream the morning after.

Father beat the back of Rasp’s head with his wings, urging him to move. Rasp wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He was frozen, unable to do anything but sit on his ass and wait for the inevitable to happen. Confused, terrified, with the alluring whisper dancing between his ears, Rasp missed the thundering footsteps that came up swiftly from behind.

One moment, the lovely magic lady was whispering sweet nothings in his ear, and in the next, Rasp was being seized by the arm and dragged away from the rift. There was lots of yelling involved, too. From Rasp’s rescuer, not him. Rasp was in too much shock to do anything but yelp each time his injured leg bumped and scraped against the spongy ground.

The language barrier prevented Rasp from understanding what all the yelling was about, but it was just as well because his dwarf rescuer didn’t sound very happy with him. Rasp didn’t fight, not even when a second pair of hands snapped the blade from his hand and helped hoist him upright. Rasp’s shaky legs refused to bear his weight and collapsed like soggy noodles. His rescuers muttered to each other as they set off, carrying Rasp between them.

His body grew heavier and heavier as he lost command of his limbs. First his legs, then his arms, and then his head. Rasp’s chin bounced uselessly against his chest as his neck gave out too. The vine’s venom had taken its toll, he realized, suddenly, painfully aware that the agonizing throb in his leg had spread to his hip.

Rasp’s consciousness slipped away as the glowing bioluminescent algae wove into a living tapestry of light. Tiny pinpricks of blue-green glow danced, whirled, and wheeled against an ink black backdrop. The black expanded, swallowing the light. And then there was nothing. No light. No smell. No outside sound. The only noises Rasp heard were the slowing thud of his heartbeat and the alluring whisper that rippled across his fading thoughts, as soft and supple as silk.

Don’t fret, my dear. It is not yet time. Rest, recover, and rejoice, for you are home at last.