After West left, time stretched tautly from one moment to the next. Finally, Roman broke the silence with a staccato, “What. Was. That.”

His words bounced down the stone halls, echoing scornfully. Norui felt her chest tighten. She began to answer, but cut herself off as she got a look at the storm brewing on Roman's face.

“Did you… Do you two have,” Roman inhaled, “prior acquaintance?”

Norui hesitated. “If it’s really b-been all those years, then I don’t think so,” she said. Her head was swirling to make sense of it all. How could anyone be so alike to her dear friend Pip? But also, how could a Nuralli have lived over a hundred years?

“I think… he must be related to someone I know,” she murmured. Then grimaced and corrected herself, “Knew.”

“Bullshit,” Roman snapped. “The second West got a look at you, his behavior changed. He started making dumb decisions. Putting the rest of us at risk. He knows you somehow, and I'll swear by any god you name, if I find out that lying Croaker came here expecting any of this–”

"Croaker?" Norui said, confused and faintly offended by the sound of the word.

"–I'll kill him myself," Roman spat.

Stunned, Norui slowed, letting Roman stalk further ahead of her. He realized that she was falling behind and, turning, barked, "Keep up, damn you!"

"It's... Roman, r-right?" Her uncertainty over his name provoked a dark glare, and she flinched back. Even for Roman, this rage seemed intense. "Roman, are you f-feeling alright?"

"Oh, fine. I'm spectacular." Turning to face her, Roman threw his arms out, sword still in hand. "Now please don't mistake this for any sort of concern, because I frankly couldn't care whether you were left behind or not, but since you seem to be the only one that the master of this hell doesn't want to kill off, I would appreciate you keeping close for the time being. Do you think you could manage that?"

"Of… of course." Norui buried her concern and hurried down the hall, catching up with the swordsman. "But Roman...."

"What?"

"Don't talk about West l-like that. Ever."

"Or what?" Roman's growl took on a dangerous note.

Drawing alongside him, Norui met his gaze and shook her head. She continued past him without saying a word or slowing a beat, forcing him to pace after her for a change.

They were nearly at the end of the hall when Roman asked, “So if your name isn’t Sunny, what is it?”

Still annoyed, Norui raised her eyebrows. “You care?”

“I’d rather not, but I’m allergic to all these little secrets that seem to be sneaking around. What is it?”

“Noruiniviani,” the Mani said. Roman frowned, as if imagining the clumsy feel of the name on his unpracticed tongue, so she added, “Or, if it’s easier, Sunny.” She didn’t offer for him to call her Norui. That was the name she reserved for her friends, and she wasn’t sure she could call Roman that.

The swordsman scoffed. “Why didn’t you give us that name in the first place?”

“As I b-believe I said, most people find it too d-difficult to bother with. And I sh-should mention, you didn’t ask,” Norui replied. Roman must have heard the note of unease in her voice though. He stared her down, waiting for the rest of the truth. She lowered her gaze. “... And it’s a bit easier… if… if I can't h-help someone, then... I don't like to use m-my name, here.”

“Hmph. As you wish it then, Sunny.” He pumped the name with venom.

The conversation was cut blissfully short when they came to an open doorway. “Oh, lovely. This isn’t the way we came, is it?” Roman groused.

“Well, there was another w-wall shift,” Norui noted, scanning the entryway nervously. “It doesn’t… I don’t see any obvious traps, at least, but–”

“As usual, you fill me with confidence. Come on.” Roman swaggered ahead, eyes focused straight forward. Norui’s heart jumped as he crossed the threshold, eyes darting for any sign of danger. When nothing happened though, she conceded he might have the right idea. They couldn’t afford to delay, searching for traps that might not exist. Not with dawn so near. A bit of recklessness might be their only chance for escape.

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Taking a breath and shoving down her worry, Norui followed.

***

“Hm. Not yet, I think.” Taking one step back, Whistler dropped down through solid stone like he’d stepped over a ledge. His creatures melded in with the shadows, only the faintest rustling and scratching on stone giving their positions away.

Bitten, bleeding and sore, Pip drew back and tapped his hat. Switching with a pop into West’s unbloodied body gave him a new reserve of energy in his Pond. It was still half gone though, and the bulky human form wouldn’t last long against the Nightmares in these tunnels. But he had to buy time to find a way through.

The hallway remained empty and near silent. He knew Whistler was still there– the unending fear pressing through the back of his mind promised it. Pulling himself together, West called out, “What’re ye hidin’ fer, Whistler? Ye had me on the ropes fer a moment there, I’ll nae lie.”

“Oh, did I? Just for a moment?” The mocking voice was directly behind West. He whipped around with a fist, swinging through empty air. Too late, he spotted a fading spot of a shadow on the ground. “You think quite a lot of yourself, don’t you?”

The voice echoed from far down the hall now, and West had no desire to chase it. He was in the deep and drowning already, outmatched by sheer numbers. Realistically, if he didn’t force a confrontation soon, Whistler’s creatures would wear his guard down and strike him dead. But if he could only find the controls that Norui had hypothesized, he could put an end to this ordeal.

The question was, how would he get there?

West took a deep breath and then started walking, seeking out the next passage that would lead him inward towards the center stage. The next corridor was as dim and deserted as the one behind him.

“You’re going to die here.”

A lightning movement– West flung himself away from the swing toward his face, but paid for it with lancing pain as another attacker tore into the flesh of his leg. Through the distraction of another Nightmare-induced delusion, he struck back. His hand landed on something thick and goopy, more mud than creature. He fed a stream of his Pond energy through his fist, slamming it harder and deeper into the sticky flesh. The Nightmare screamed like a banshee and vanished.

West pressed a hand against the gash on his thigh, clenching his jaw, looking for where the next attack would come.

“How do you think she’ll react when she finds you?” Whistler wondered musically from down a corner. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to put you in that dreary audience. She’s going to try so hard to keep hoping, after all, it would be absolutely crude not to employ a bit of artistry! Tell you what, I’ll let you choose– what part of you should I let her find first?”

West fought to bite back a retort. Whistler was only trying to get a rise out of him. But the taunt shook West. As strong a defense as he’d put up to that aura of fear following Whistler everywhere, his small apprehension opened a tiny crack. The dread came pouring through– imagining the horror on Sunny’s face, finding bits of his broken body, tumbling into new nightmarish depths with no hope of escape….

A Nightmare threw itself around a corner, its leechlike body undulating along the floor as it rushed him. Its round eyes were spread wide on its humanlike face, making room for an enormous ringlike mouth with rows upon rows of teeth.

Meeting it with a kick, West caved in the side of its head. Limping on, West forced his face calm, wrangling every bit of his willpower to stay focused. He didn’t want to give Whistler the satisfaction of seeing him rattled. He couldn’t. Faltering for even a moment could be deadly.

His mind kept slipping to those fear-fed images though. When the next Nightmare barrelled weightily down the hall, its massive horned head bent low, he missed his timing to dodge. The creature rammed him into a wall, and even using his Pond wasn’t enough to hold back the rib-cracking force. He barely found the strength to shove it off, and something ground sickeningly in his chest as he staggered free. While it tried turning its husky bulk in the tight hallways, he hobble-dashed around the next junction, pressing an arm against the dark-bricked wall and gasping for breath.

Feck. There’s no runnin’ around like this.

Tapping his hat again, Pip’s slashed-up form popped back into place. Reaching for his belt pouch, the Nuralli withdrew two tablets and bit into them. A new flood of energy filled the shrinking puddle of his Pond. He immediately pressed the fresh reserves into service, staunching the bleeding of the dozen cuts and gashes he’d earned. Those were his last get-up-and-go tablets, but with enough energy to keep his body from falling apart, he could go on a bit longer.

Exhaling, Pip darted his eyes up and down the hall as he drew his breath back to a regular rhythm. Keeping a cool head, not being enslaved by that oppressive fear, was the first and most essential step to survival. Fear-driven thoughts ran amuck in his mind, but Pip kept himself disengaged from them. The less he listened to them, the duller their roar in his head. Buying himself enough space to think, he deliberated on how to reach the central controls.

It wasn’t enough to beeline it for the center stage. Whistler would send his Nightmares to butcher him the moment he made any progress. He had to make it look like he didn’t know where he was going first. Then, when he made a break for it, he had to be so quick that by the time Whistler saw the threat, it would already be too late.

It was worth a try. Shoving off of the wall with a grunt, Pip jogged ahead, taking the next turn he met leading away from the center stage. Let Whistler think him lost.

He didn’t have much time to spare for the gambit. There couldn’t be more than thirty minutes left until dawn, if that, and Whistler was sure to put an end to things soon. At the first clear opening though, at a full sprint, Pip might keep ahead of those Nightmare creatures long enough to get to the central room.

But he might not have time to do more than destroy the controls. And if he did it wrong, he might not be able to open the path out. What was worse: Dying here now, leaving Norui to an uncertain and hellish future, or trapping them all in a nonfunctional tomb? But if it was the only thing he could do–

Pip turned into the next hall, hobbling slightly. Misdirection was his best, maybe his only, chance. He just hoped that the others were having an easier time of it than him.