“Wake up.” Jasper was yanked out of his dreams as someone shook his shoulders firmly.

“What? What?” He sputtered, still half-asleep, and stiffened as two arms wrapped tight around him and a head of hair was plastered across his face.

“Thank Selene,” a familiar voice murmured in his ear. “I knew you weren’t dead.”

“Ihra?” He relaxed as he recognized his friend and squeezed her back gently.

After a moment, she released him and as she pulled away, he could see a faint glimmer in the corner of her eyes. “You know, those two had given up on you. Nēs̆u,” she glanced over her shoulder angrily, “wasn’t even willing to try to find you, but I knew you’d make it.”

“It was a bit touch and go,” Jasper said wryly. “Ended up in the city of the dead and everything, but thanks to a meddling goddess and her, I guess,” he said, pointing to Barbartu who still stood guarding the door, “I survived.”

Ihra leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I was surprised to find you with her,” she admitted. “Can she be trusted?”

Jasper just shrugged. “If she wanted me dead, all she would have to do is stand by and watch. When I came back from the Void, I would have died in a few minutes from my wounds. But she saved me. And Tsia. And Annatta," he added slowly. "I still don’t understand what she wanted with me, but I don't think she means me harm.”

He propped himself up against the wall and waved at Barbartu. The woman smirked and looked away without acknowledging him. “What about you? How did you find us?”

“Nēs̆u was still able to sense where Tsia was, so we were forced to follow him. I wanted to split off and look for you, but…” she hung her head.

“I glad you didn’t,” Jasper reassured her. “You’d never have found me in the dark, and god only knows what might have found you.”

“Yeah,” she chewed on her lip nervously. “There were times I thought I sensed someone following us,” she admitted. “But as soon as I sensed them, it disappeared. Maybe it was just nerves, but…”

The two shared a glance, knowing all too well what lurked in the darkness. It wasn’t just nerves. Staggering to his feet, Jasper made his way over to where Tsia lay, still asleep. Nēs̆u and Rā’imu were hovering over her like a pair of mother hens, but the Sicyan looked up as he approached.

“So you survived,” he grunted.

“No thanks to you, I hear.” Though Jasper tried to speak the words lightly, he didn't quite succeed in preventing a touch of irritation from seeping into his tone. He'd known the man was loyal to Tsia above all else, but he'd thought the man had started becoming part of the group. But to hear that he wasn't even willing to try to search for Jasper was a hard pill to swallow.

The warrior rolled his shoulders indifferently. “Eh, you know why I’m here,” he grunted again.

Jasper grimaced, but biting his tongue, focused on Tsia. “I think it’s time to wake her up.”

“She needs to sleep,” the warrior objected.

“She needs to get out of this hell-hole of a city,” Jasper countered. “There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of nizirtū that live down here, and they aren’t even the worst of its residents. We need to get out while we still can.”

Nēs̆u scowled, but slowly nodded his head. “Perhaps you’re right.” Bending down, he shook the girl awake.

She resisted at first, flipping on her stomach and burying her head beneath her arm, but he persisted. Slowly her cracks opened, trembling beneath the dim light the torches provided, until she saw the warrior. “Nēs̆u?!” She leaped up and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You came! I thought I’d never see you again, or Papa, or…” She trailed off, overcome by emotion.

Clearing his throat, the man patted her back awkwardly. “It’s, uh, good to see you too, lass. I thought I’d failed you.”

“I’m here too,” another voice piped. Releasing him, Tsia whirled around. “Rā’imu?” She asked, bewildered. “What are you doing here? It’s too dangerous for you down here.”

The man shrugged and stepped forward carefully, trying to hide his limp. “I got this far, didn’t I?”

The girl wasn’t deceived, and her eyes zeroed in on the long strip of armor that was torn asunder. “You’re hurt,” she accused, grabbing at his armor to see the wound.

He squirmed out of reach and shoved her hand away. “I’ll live,” he reassured her with a weak grin. “Might take a few weeks to truly recover, but the bleeding’s been stopped. Really, the only damage that’s been done is marring my beautiful body with a scar. The ladies of my house will be devastated,” he replied, pressing his hand over his heart in mock sorrow.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Are you girls done gossiping?” Barbartu’s husky voice cut through their chatter. She stood at the door, with Annatta once again slung over her shoulder. “If you’re done filling out your dance cards, it might be time to escape this city. You’ve got 5 minutes to get ready before this train leaves the station, with or without you.”

The group fell silent as they hastened to assemble their items. Save for a nearly empty bag and his glaive, Jasper had little to retrieve, and he joined Barbartu’s side mere moments later. “The train’s about to leave the station?” He asked quietly. “Last I checked, there aren't any trains around here. Are you from Earth?”

“No,” she replied bluntly. “At least not really. But I have lived there for more than a few centuries.” The others finished their packing, and she broke off their conversation. “I told you - I’ll tell you everything before I leave, but now's not the time.”

The group followed her out of the building and began the long trek toward the top of the pit. The first hour passed peacefully, but as the second commenced its reign, an uneasy feeling began to grow in the pit of his stomach.

There was something in the darkness, hiding just out of reach of the dim torch lights. He couldn’t catch it, no matter how often he glanced over his shoulder, nor he could hear its footfalls, even when he called for the group to pause. But he knew it was there.

“You sense it too, don’t you?” He asked Barbartu.

“Yes,” the woman replied flatly. “But it’s not what you fear. Just ignore it,” she commanded.

Unable to detect the threat, there was nothing he could do but follow after her, but Jasper's sense of paranoia spread throughout the group. They walked in silence, sending uneasy glances as the presence followed them.

In their third hour, they finally emerged from the depths of the city onto the grand, spiraled highway that led out of Naḫas̆s̆innu. With the prospect of escape visible, if only from afar, their mood picked up. They scurried after Barbartu with renewed strength and quickly ascended through the first two rotations of the road. But when they reached the fallen temple again, an unwelcome sight awaited them.

The road was thick with the black robes of the cultists, but the brethren were not lying in wait for them. Instead, the brethren lay back to back, bound and gagged from one side of the road to the next. The noxious stench of rotting meat filled the air, provided by the unidentifiable organs strewn haphazardly on top of them. The cultists squirmed frantically, trying to loose their bounds, but even if they could, there was no escape.

The roped bridge hung limply on the far side of the road, its severed ends pointing down to the bottom of the pit. And there, clustered around the edge of the road, stood a small horde of the nizirtū. The tall, pale freaks roared with laughter as Jasper’s party came into view, hoots and hollers filling the air.

“What is this?” Tsia whispered, peering at the bound cultists that lay before them. “Some sort of peace offering?”

“Yep,” Jasper replied grimly. “That’s exactly what it is. A peace offering for the dead gods.”

*THUD*

The group spun around as the doors of the temple flung open. They could see nothing through the darkness, nothing but the thud, thud, thud of heavy footfall. And then the being emerged.

The dead Mwyranni’s once vibrant blue skin had faded into a pale blue that bordered on grey. Jagged, unhealed cuts crisscrossed much of its body, from which silvery blood still dripped on the floor, but it moved with no sign of pain. Its head scraped against the temple’s roof, which was barely tall enough to let it pass, and as it walked slowly toward them, it muttered beneath its breath. “Gawrusha Ky’therak ag Nash. Ish Yrgh Awwerda.” Over and over again, it repeated its ramblings, paying little heed to the world around it. But its path led directly toward them.

Just one? Maybe we can handle this. Drawing his glaive, Jasper readied himself for the confrontation, but his heart sunk as more thuds echoed from the direction they had just come and another form stepped into the torchlight. So much for handling it.

Stepping beside him, Barbartu laid Annatta down on the ground and drew her sword. Looking to her left, she stared into the empty space behind Tsia and called out. “You going to keep hiding, or are you going to help? That's why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Jasper raised a brow as the space remained empty. “Uh, who are you talking to?”

“The ‘presence’ you sensed,” she responded quietly. “A Sidhe has been following your party since you descended into the pit. I sense a connection between him and that one,” Barbartu said, nodding toward Tsia.

With an exaggerated sigh, the blonde man they’d encountered in Dūr-Yarha - Ivan - materialized in front of them. He towered over the petite brunette, a mass of muscle and brawn, but his casual clothes had been replaced by a tight-fitting suit of black armor. The pieces flowed together, each one interlocking with the next in a nearly seamless structure. Golden, glowing bands wrapped around his forearms, stretching from his wrists all the way up to his elbows. Only his head remained unarmored.

“You didn’t have to spoil the surprise, you know,” he griped at Barbartu.

“I held my peace, Sidhe, as long as I could. But even if I could kill both of them, I certainly couldn’t keep these ones alive during the fight.”

“Are you sure about that?” He looked at her speculatively. “You stole quite a bit of power from the lad."

The Lamashtu shook her head. “I don’t know who you are, Sidhe, but I can feel the power practically radiating off you. You remind me of Yas̆gah, and I was nowhere near strong enough to defeat that bitch on my own.”

“You’d benefit more from killing them than I would, but fine,” the Sidhe shrugged. “I won’t make you eat your veggies.” He pressed his hand to the side of his neck and the black armor surged upwards; within moments, his head was encased in a streamlined black helmet with glowing gold eyes. “Ya’ll stay put and I’ll hand this,” he ordered the group. “But before I go,” he paused and winked at them, “anyone got a can of spinach?”

The Corsythians stared back at him uncomprehendingly, but Jasper managed a weak grin. “Want some Olive Oyl with that?”

The man brightened up. “Ah, a man of culture. Do they still make Popeye? It’s been a few thousand years, give or take, since I saw it.”

A few thousand years? Jasper stared at the Sidhe dumbfounded. He wasn’t exactly sure how old the show was, but he was damn certain it wasn’t around in the time of the Pharaohs.

But before he managed to stammer out a reply, the Mwyranni crouching in the temple slammed its fists against the pillars and roared. "Gyera Dâkanna Sidhe." And, with all thoughts of Jasper forgotten, the Sidhe spun around to face his opponent.