Saleh met back up with Nathan and Cleo as they were making their way toward the entrance to the dungeon. He didn’t offer any sort of explanation for his absence, he just smiled and nodded, falling into step with them.

“Where did you go?” Nathan asked, looking forward.

“That is not of importance, Colonel Elijah,” said Saleh.

Either he wasn’t taking this whole operation very seriously, or he felt no need to explain things to Nathan. Neither possibility gave Nathan much confidence. Down in the dungeon, he and Cleo would have no idea what to expect. They would be at the mercy of Saleh’s knowledge.

It would be in Saleh’s best interest to be upfront with them.

“How was your little chat with the Major?” Saleh grinned, one hand laid loosely over the hilt of the blade hanging from his waist.

“You knew about that?”

“But of course I did.”

They strode through the forest of canvas tents and flapping flagpoles. Myriad guards and guildsmen were strewn about, stumbling to their feet and saluting as the trio passed. Saleh, or Mercer as he was apparently known within the Cerulean Brotherhood, appeared to be well liked. And Nathan’s affiliation with him and the insignia on the shoulder of his uniform was enough to keep people from questioning them.

It did not take long before they arrived at the front doors of the gothic looking building. The double wooden doors were broken inward, their wood weak and decayed. Lances of light streamed in through shattered windows and holes in the ceiling. It all had a scent of damp earth.

Two guards stood station on either side of the door, holding long spears tipped with fluttering cerulean ribbons on the end. They saluted as the three of them passed into the building.

“Sir,” they said in unison.

Whatever Nathan had been expecting for a dungeon to look like, this wasn’t it. As far as he could tell, there was no visual difference between inside the building and outside. A little cooler, a little damper.

But the feeling. That was where the difference was. Like walking into an area of stronger gravity. He couldn’t see it, he couldn’t explain it, but he could feel it.

Nathan felt a shiver pass over his skin, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end, his skin to feel tighter, clammier. The power of the Threads was palpable in the air.

Nathan’s foot stepped onto an old, gnarled root that had somehow broken through the foundation of the building. Moss and vines hung from the walls and ceilings and decrepit chandeliers, all dripping with moisture. If Nathan weren’t expecting strange monsters to jump out from every corner or shadow, the place would have been quite relaxing.

“What now,” Nathan said as they all stood in the center of the room. “Corvus said they were working on breaking into the dungeon. Should be finished within the week. It looks to me like we’re already inside.”

Saleh cocked his head, the same grin still on it. Does he ever stop smiling? It’s kinda creepy. “You’re just not looking in the right places, friend.” His eyes narrowed, the features of his face sharpening with curiosity as he regarded Nathan. Like being under a microscope. “They were right about you,” he said, nodding softly to himself. “You are a strange one.” He turned to Cleo. “And you as well.”

“You want another bolt in you? This time I won’t put it in your arm.”

Nathan started. Saleh’s arm looked to be completely healed. The hole was still in his uniform – there were many holes in it – but no visible wound underneath. He must have some sort of healing ability. Or maybe potions are a thing in this world.

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“Where should I be looking, then?” Nathan asked.

“It’s a dungeon,” Saleh said, looking around at the overgrown walls. “You should probably be looking down.”

A sudden shift in the energy of the room. The sound of grinding stone. Shimmers of silken energy lit up across the ground, crossing over each other, forming into an indecipherable pattern not unlike the strings that Nathan saw when delving within himself. The power within the room washed over Nathan, intensifying as if someone had just cranked the dial up to eleven. Dust and moisture fell from the ceiling onto them as a platform in the floor began to descend.

“I thought it was still locked!” Nathan yelled, just barely audible over the sound of grinding stone and the sharp ringing in the air.

“We haven’t even gotten to the door yet!” Saleh yelled back. “Have you never been to a dungeon before?”

Nathan just shrugged in response. He hadn’t.

The light faded quickly above them as they descended into a tunnel ringed with glowing green moss. Cleo had her crossbow out and ready, though the only target to shoot at was either Nathan or Saleh. And she’d already shot both of them once so far.

After a moment, the platform stopped and they found themselves in a large, underground cavern. Faint light twinkled in the air from the same glowing moss, casting everything in shades of green. The pressure here was the same as above, firm but not uncomfortable. Sounds, voices, drifted throughout the chamber.

Wherever the door is, we’re close. And other guild members are already there.

“Lead the way, Mercer,” Nathan said.

“With pleasure.” Saleh stepped off the platform and Nathan and Cleo followed. The ground was soft and wet, his feet sinking into it a quarter inch with each step.

“This is not what I expected,” Cleo said, a rare expression of happiness on her face. “It is rather beautiful.”

The dungeon almost seemed alive. Vines and moss moved as they passed, some reaching out as if to grab, others pulling back into the cracks in stones or walls. Nathan wanted to reach out and touch some of it, but decided against it. The last thing he needed was a surprise lesson that all dungeon moss was carnivorous.

They continued walking through the cavern, the voices growing louder with each step, for several minutes until they came upon a large doorway. Thick and heavy stone that looked to be etched with the same lines as the platform that they descended on, overgrown with yet more moss. However, this moss was different. It shifted and pulsed, causing the door to look as if it were breathing.

Four men stood in front of it, all dressed in the familiar blue of the Cerulean Brotherhood. As Saleh stepped up, they all turned and looked at him.

“I didn’t think we were due to swap off for another four hours,” one of the men said, wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his hairy hand.

The guild members were operating some sort of magical drill. It had a hard metal bit on the end that pulsed with an aura of magic. Are they drilling into the dungeon? There was a large hole, tall as a man, bored through part of the door. Not deep enough to reach the other side yet, but it couldn’t be much further.

“Correct,” Saleh said, undoing the buttons of his coat and letting it flop open. “Keep doing your work, do not mind us.” The last words came out of his mouth like a command and Nathan felt a pressure from them. Like the Threads were trying to twist their way into his mind and make him obey. He fought it off, but not without effort.

Instantly, the four men’s eyes glazed over, taking on a pearlescent sheen. They moved like zombies, their motions mechanical, lacking any emotion. One of the men had been in the middle of making a joke to his friend, but he stopped mid sentence and turned back to the drill. It wasn’t right.

Like some sort of mind control. He just spoke and they obeyed…

Nathan clenched his jaw and looked nervously at Cleo. She looked to have come to the same conclusion as him.

The words weren’t even directed at me… yet I felt a compulsion. I don’t like this. How do I know my mind hasn’t already been affected in a subtler way by Saleh’s words?

“The key, Colonel,” Saleh said, exaggeratedly bowing and motioning toward the towering door of stone and vine.

Nathan gulped and stepped past him, procuring the key from his pocket and inserting it into the obvious keyhole in the center of the door. The four guild members acted as if they weren’t even there.

The key sunk into the door easily and a web of glittering lines like the platform above spread through the stone. With an echoing sound of grinding stone, the doors slid open. Still, the men drilling did not react.

“After you, my dear,” Saleh said, smiling to Cleo.

“You first.”

The pale haired man shrugged and sauntered inside, his steps echoing in the stillness. Once he was out of earshot, about twenty feet ahead, Nathan whispered to Cleo.

“You saw what he just did?”

“Like mind control.”

“How do we know he hasn’t already done something similar to us?”

“We don’t.”

“Are you coming?” Saleh called from ahead, turning and waving, that same too-honest smile on his face. “This dungeon won’t be plundering itself, you know.”

Cleo’s muscles tensed like a large cat, her eyes narrowing in the dim green light. A killer through and through. “He does anything,” she hissed, “put a blade through his heart.”

“Naturally.”

The two assassins walked through the doorway, Nathan placing the key back in his pocket, and the doors ground closed behind them.