The slightly wet, warm and unnaturally green grass was so soft that Oak was out the moment he laid down upon it. Sleep carried him away from the malice of the City of God.

After a time, Oak found himself kneeling in a grand hall made of giant skulls wearing broken crowns on their heads. The sound of clapping stopped his wide-eyed ogling, and he turned towards the noise.

“Bravo my boy, bravo indeed,” said Ashmedai. The demon was in the familiar shape of a tall, handsome man with the leg of a rooster. He was smoking his pipe on top of a melted throne in the center of the hall.

“Ashmedai,” Oak said, and stood up. “I figured it might be worth a try to contact you. I know our time is likely short, so I will get straight to it, unless you have objections?”

“Nothing of the sort. I am quite pleased with your progress. If I thought having this conversation would have been more dangerous than not having it, then we would not be speaking,” Ashmedai replied, and took a drag from his pipe. The contents of the pipe glowed, and the demon breathed out a string of smoke from the side of his mouth. “Finding another grove was a pleasant stroke of luck on your part. Do go on.”

“I have added quite a bit of fuel inside my infernal engine since we last spoke. Centipedes by the dozen, the ogre, multiple ghouls, the spiders and finally the revenant,” Oak said, and cleared his throat. “We will head into the darkness of Ma’aseh Merkavah’s underbelly, and I would like to pluck a critical weakness before we do so.”

“Understandable. And yes, that should be a sufficient quantity of souls to add another boon, of course, depending on what you want to pick,” Ashmedai replied. “Not all powers are alike, after all.”

“I can’t see in the dark,” Oak said.

“Yes, now that you mention it, that seems like a slight issue if you are heading underground, beyond the dim light suffusing the city,” Ashmedai said.

“I thought so. The Ears of Amdusias have been very useful but I don’t want to rely on them as the only way to see my surroundings, especially if I have to fight. Can I afford a power that lets me see in the dark?” Oak asked.

Ashmedai tapped his knee in thought. “There are some esoteric options, but I think simple is the best choice here.”

The demon snapped his fingers, and a branch materialized in the air between them.

“The Branch of Ipos offers many options related to the gathering of information, and darkvision happens to be one of them. Not very demanding, soul wise, so you will be left with some savings for the next boon,” Ashmedai said. “Your eyes won’t pierce any magical darkness, but regular absence of light should not cause you any trouble. Is this acceptable?”

Oak nodded. “More than acceptable,” he said and was about to ask for Ashmedai to graft the branch and grant him the boon, when he remembered his promise. “By the way, Ur-Namma sends his thanks.”

Ashmedai looked delighted. “Tell that ancient codger there is no need to thank me, though the intent is well received all the same. I have my share of self interest riding on this venture after all,” the demon said. “Now, is there anything else? We need to cut this short before someone notices our little chat.”

Oak shook his head.

“In that case, good luck, Warlock,” Ashmedai said and snapped his fingers.

The grand hall made of giant skulls vanished from Oak’s sight and in short order he found himself back at the grove, Geezer’s snout an inch from his face.

Status.

Infernal engine

Current status:

* Souls: 46

* Fuel: 4

Branches

Boons

Branch of Flauros

Pyromancy: grants an intuitive understanding of fire and the basic ability to summon it.

Branch of Amdusias

Ears of Amdusias: grants sharp hearing and the basic ability to see one's environment through sound.

Branch of Buer

Demonic Constitution: grants slightly faster healing from injury, lessens fatigue and increases the rate of recovery from physical activity.

Branch of Ipos

Darkvision: grants the ability to see even in complete darkness.

Theurgy

Current status:

* Ghosts: 6

Wards

Ghosts attached: 1

Trauma weapons

Kaarina’s Horror

Thought-plagues

Kushim’s Bewilderment

Scouts

Raven

Miscellaneous ghosts

Sparrow

Cat

Splendid. Still four units of fuel left over.

“Had a good talk?” Ur-Namma asked, mouth full of hardtack. The elf was leaning against the base of a tree and, for the first time since Oak had released him from his stone prison, Ur-Namma looked comfortable.

“Very pleasant,” Oak responded and gave Geezer a good scratch. “I even remembered to deliver your thanks to him. They were well received. And I can see in the dark now, which should prove helpful in the sewers.”

“Good. I am glad my protector won’t need to stumble around in the dark, and that the niceties have been observed. It never hurts to be polite when dealing with demons,” Ur-Namma said and washed the hardtack down with a gulp of water. “We can leave whenever you are ready.”

Oak stood up and started walking deeper into the maple grove. “I hear you. I will use this opportunity to take a piss in relative safety, and then we can leave. Don’t go anywhere.”

Ur-Namma snorted. “There’s one instruction I won’t have any trouble following for some time,” the elf said, and poked his own spindly legs.

***

Oak stared at the sewer entrance with trepidation. Now that he knew he had to climb inside, the circular hole looked like a maw of some great beast slumbering under the city.

“Are you sure this is really necessary?” he asked.

“We have been over this already. Unless you want to try your luck with whatever horrors roam in the center of the city, this is our only way of getting inside the imperial library,” Ur-Namma answered.

“I am willing to bet that if we approach above ground, leshen will be the least of our problems.”

Even though the elf was steadfast in his commitment to their plan, Oak could tell there was a certain tightness in the way he set his shoulders. It seemed neither of them enjoyed the idea of adventuring through the sewer system.

“Nothing for it,” Oak said and climbed down the ladder.

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Not a single monster jumped at his face or charged at him from the darkness, which was a pleasant surprise. He had been prepared for the worst. The entire sewer was made of brick and concrete. There was a relatively well-kept walkway next to the part in the middle where sewage had flown when Ma’aseh Merkavah had still been the greatest city in the world, and there had been sewage to manage.

The fact he could see all of that clearly was wild. Up there, on the streets, his gaze now pierced even the darkest shadows like they weren’t even there. Down here in the sewer, he still saw just fine, but all color had been drained from the world. Only different shades of black and white remained.

It was magnificent. To think that every grafted under the sun walked around like this. No wonder most of them were full of themselves.

“You know what? It does not even smell that bad anymore. Let me get back up there and I will lower you two down,” Oak said.

“I can’t wait,” Ur-Namma replied.

Getting both Geezer and Ur-Namma down into the sewer took a bit of elbow grease, but in the end, Oak managed it without too many setbacks.

“Did you have to bang my head on the ladder?” Ur-Namma asked, holding onto his aching forehead.

“Hey, let's keep a positive ambience and not focus on each other's mistakes, all right?” Oak said and looked away to hide his grin. “Negativity breeds more negativity.”

“If this is another one of your old man’s wisdoms, I will personally crawl into Ashmedai’s hell and beat the crap out of the man,” Ur-Namma muttered.

“You would lose that brawl. Not a very threatening statement‌. If I let go of you, are you going to stay up on two legs?” Oak asked.

“I will show you when I have recovered, you know that, right?” Ur-Namma said, struggling a bit while Oak helped him over a pile of garbage.

“Looking forward to it, skeleton,” Oak replied.

Geezer looked at the pair and shook his head.

“What?” Oak and Ur-Namma asked at the same time.

Geezer dignified neither of them with a response. Instead, the hellhound padded past them, snout held high.

“A mutt is giving me lip,” Ur-Namma groaned. “How the mighty have fallen.”

“Indeed. If you want to go any lower, we will have to start digging,” Oak replied without missing a beat.

Ur-Namma sighed and accepted his defeat.

It was impossible to accurately keep track of the passage of time in Ma’aseh Merkavah and it was even harder to keep track of it underground, but Oak was reasonably sure they were moving at an acceptable pace. Ur-Namma seemed to have no trouble remembering the route they had to take and for a long time the three of them walked in silence, passing corridors and occasionally taking a turn at an intersection.

Sometimes Oak could see signs of monsters living in the sewers, like a couple of ghoul skeletons down a side corridor, but nothing living or undead, for that matter, attacked them. Silence was their only companion.

The tunnel they were walking down took a sharp right turn. Ur-Namma stumbled over some loose rocks, legs swinging in all the wrong directions, and held onto Oak’s jacket with shaking hands to keep himself from falling on his face.

“Curses.” the elf spat on the walkway, frustration spilling over. “This weakness vexes me.”

Oak did not answer. He stared at the utter absence of light ahead of them. He could not see a thing. Did my darkvision just fail me? The hairs on his arms stood on end, and the silence felt oppressive now, like the calm before the storm. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

What in Hells is going on? Wait. Ashmedai warned this boon would not pierce magical darkness.

Acting out of pure instinct, Oak called forth the blaze nesting inside his soul, and cast a stream of orange flames at the darkness in front of him.

Light and heat flooded the tunnel, and the darkness ahead shrank away from the fire, swirling and rippling like a sea of ink. Liquid feelers jumped forward to strike at Oak, but they disintegrated in the light of his flames, bubbling and boiling away. Droplets of living shadow stained the walls of the tunnel before they, too, suffered the wrath of infernal radiance.

Geezer barked like mad, Oak screamed, and Ur-Namma let out a long string of something that sounded like curses in elvish.

The cloud of liquid darkness fled from the onslaught of flames and the tyranny of the light, hissing angrily as it went, and vanished down a side corridor. He could now see all the way to the next turn of the large tunnel, hundreds of feet ahead, without the slightest trouble.

“What the fuck was that?” Oak asked, trying to get his panicked breathing under control. He grabbed the barking hellhound by the back of the neck, and pulled Geezer close, shushing him. “Quiet now, Geezer! You will bring every monster in these bloody tunnels upon us!”

The hellhound whimpered and stuck his head between Oak’s legs.

Ur-Namma looked positively stumped. “To tell you the truth, I don’t have the faintest idea,” he replied. “Let’s try to be more careful going forward.”

“Works for me. Constant vigilance?”

“Constant vigilance.”

***

They were approaching another intersection when both Oak and Ur-Namma sensed trouble ahead.

“Can you feel that?” Ur-Namma asked.

“Yes,” Oak replied. “A kind of wrinkle in the Waking Dream. Feels like an old memory trap to me.”

The currents of the Dream bounced away from the wrinkle instead of flowing naturally over it and around it, sending ripples traveling along the surface of the Unreal Sea.

“I concur. There is another issue as well,” Ur-Namma whispered. “We are supposed to turn right at that intersection, but there is no tunnel to turn to. We can only continue forward or turn left, and both options take us in the wrong direction.”

“So, basically we are lost,” Oak said.

Great. Just what I wanted, the three of us wandering the underbelly of Ma’aseh Merkavah like headless chickens looking for a piece of grain.

“Well, I wouldn’t use those exact words,” Ur-Namma said.

“Do you know the right direction, then?” Oak asked.

“Yes, some idiot just built a wall there,” Ur-Namma hissed.

“Fine. Now, why would anyone put a memory trap inside a sewer?” Oak asked.

“It could honestly just be a malicious prank by one of the maintenance crews,” Ur-Namma said. “I know they tended to do stuff like that to each other. Keep in mind this palace was not crawling with monsters back in the day, so the consequences of such a trick would not have been so severe. The victim would just be stuck here for a little while until another crew came along and found them.”

“I don’t want to cause any offense, but has the thought ever crossed your mind that the people keeping this place running were out of their fucking minds?” Oak asked.

Ur-Namma’s lips curved into a slight smile and he said, “Once or twice.”

Oak snorted. The idea of sewer crews fighting little turf wars in the dark with memory traps amused him to no end. “Want me to destroy the trap so we can move on?” he asked.

“That would suffice. I could do it too, but I haven’t dived in three hundred years. Might be best I save familiarizing myself with the art for another time when there is nothing on the line,” Ur-Namma said. “Even though my wards are considerably better and stronger than yours.”

“A bloody leviathan smacked me with a tentacle, okay,” Oak said. “My wards used to be in better shape.”

“Yeah, the first time you told me that story, the leviathan just kind of brushed you by accident, but sure, whatever you say,” Ur-Namma replied.

Oak ignored the elf’s taunting and sat down, leaning against the brickwall. He placed Ur-Namma right next to himself, told Geezer to keep watch and, without further ado, dove into the Waking Dream.

Thorns of sorrow made to rend the vessel of his cognition, but his wards held and then he was swimming in the cold currents of the Dream, once more gasping in the frigid waters of old hatred.

The sewer tunnel inside the Waking Dream was not as straight and architecturally sound as the one in the real world. The walls bulged in places, creating narrow chokepoints and limiting visibility. Oak minimized his own presence as well as he was able, and started walking forward, towards the memory trap.

The bricks under his feet wailed in grief and lunacy in equal measure, hairs and spines piercing the walls and the ceiling. The spines were wiggling slightly and Oak took great care to not touch any of them.

No need to find out where that road takes me.

He did not have to go far before he reached the intersection where a sideways going tunnel cut right through the one they had been traveling down, and sensed a boundary that ran across the tunnel. It marked the domain of the trap and connected to a tightly woven set of crisscrossing memory strings placed in a wrinkle in the ceiling of the intersection.

If one was stupid enough to break the boundary, that ball of bad news on the ceiling would activate and fuck up your day. The only reason it had been so easy to sense was the fact that the trap was clearly breaking down and losing its cohesion.

If thought-plagues were a pain in the ass of every large armed force, memory traps were a spook’s worst nightmare. Oak hated dealing with them. If he got hit with a thought-plague, he could usually deal with the problem by himself. No such luck with memory traps. If you triggered one, you were stuck reliving the memory over and over again until someone helped you or the people who had set the trap purged your mind and scattered your thought-stuff around the Dream.

Memory traps and thought-plagues could be broadly divided into two categories. Ones that triggered when you came across them in the real world and ones that triggered when you ran into them while diving in the Waking Dream. Oak was pretty sure the trap in the sewer tunnel was one of the former, which made dealing with it much easier, since it had not been built to trap a diving spook.

Slowly and carefully, Oak extended two branches from his tree shaped shadow and got to work, dismantling the trap. He maneuvered the ghostly branches on opposite sides of the trap and pulled on the strings of memory, separating them from each other and unspooling the trap until it lost all structural integrity and fell apart.

Oak let out a sigh of relief and dove back into his own body.

“Everything went well, I presume,” Ur-Namma said, as Oak opened his eyes.

“No surprises,” Oak replied and stood them both back up. “Let’s keep going.”

Geezer took point, and the three of them walked to the intersection. Ur-Namma looked around with a pensive expression on his face, clearly trying to remember the layout of the sewers, so he could decide whether they should continue forward or turn left, since the tunnel to the right was blocked.

The tunnel to the right, Oak thought, and a realization froze him in place.

“The wall. The wall, Ur-Namma.” Oak whispered.

“What?” Ur-Namma asked.

“The tunnel to the right was not blocked by a wall in the Waking Dream. It is no guarantee, but that might not be a wall,” Oak whispered, staring at the blocked tunnel entrance. The more he looked at it, the clearer it became that he was not looking at a wall of stone like he had assumed at first glance.

“By the dead,” Ur-Namma whispered.

Oak drew his sword. “Talk to me elf.”

“You are right. I did not see it sooner because of the darkness, but that is no wall. It is a gigantic Dread Biter.”