The elevator rose at the speed of a one-legged turtle, burning another 15 minutes. Time which I used to remain seated, focusing on my breathing to recover as much stamina as possible.

  Time Remaining: 18:44:52

  Despite my best efforts to ignore the clock, anxiety was creeping up my back. It also didn't help that the timer was bright, bold, and stuck in the bottom right corner of my vision no matter where I looked. I tapped my foot as we slogged upward, passing floor after floor of workshops, feeling Garik's gaze drilling into the side of my head.

  He kept raising a finger, opening his mouth, then stopping himself from speaking before returning to the drawing board, repeating the process ad infinitum.

  "Where is the prisoner intake? You said she might be getting processed."

  Garik's cerulean eyes flared with the excitement of a dog hearing its name called. "It's not far from the top of the Cellar. Depending when she was captured, they may have already sent her upstairs. Still, it's worth searching... Uh, earlier I saw—"

  "What did I say about asking questions?"

  Tugging at the bottom of his overgrown beard, Garik nodded. "Yes, Boss, I know. There's just a lot I can't stop thinking about. Like how you're standing here with only a couple bruises after taking a point blank hit from Jankoh's devastator. And the incantation-less teleportation is as confounding as the fact I haven't sensed a hint of your mana signature."

  He scratched his head, squinting as he stared down at me. "A mage powerful enough to walk in and out of Barret's glyph lock should be oozing aura… "

  "I never said I was a mage."

  Garik's squinting intensified to the point I thought his pupils were going to liquefy. He opened his mouth again, only to shut his trap when he saw my scowl, realizing how quickly his goodwill was rushing down the drain.

  Finally, the iron lift stopped on a circular floor absent of prisoners. The platform doubled as the floor for the room, which was lined with eight wrought-iron doors. Each door had Barret's glyph imprinted over the metal frame.

  "Hmm... I only remember there being six doors when I was first brought here." Garik walked along the edge of the lift, counting the doors from left to right until he stopped at door number five. "This one."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes, I could never forget the day I was dragged here through this door. I'll be watching and waiting for the glyph lock to lose its luster," Garik said with a huge grin. "Today I'll either join you outside of this hell or perish."

  Satisfied with restoring a few percentage points of stamina, I took one last deep breath, stood up and placed my palm over the fifth door's keyhole.

  Shadow Weave.

  Malleable shadows filled the locking mechanism until it clicked. I swung the door open and stepped across the glyph lock, entering a winding hallway identical to the ones I'd been in before.

  "May Galdir—"

  Before Garik could finish his blessing, I dashed off, running at full speed down an identical hallway that ended with yet another wrought-iron door at the end. In one swift motion, I unlocked it with Shadow Weave and opened it. An expansive room furnished with rows of stone benches lay on the other side. Heavy anchor rings were embedded in the floor under the benches, serving as tether points for the prisoners' chains as they waited to be processed.

  Several service counters stood on the far side of the room, resembling a dank, hopeless after hours DMV. Magelights in desperate need of a recharge kept the hall dimly lit and the atmosphere dour. The space was vacant with the exception of a single person.

  A man dressed in plain white linens drove a wide push broom across the floor on the far side of the room. He was so caught up in his task, he didn't notice me until I stepped in his broom's path. Startled, he jumped back. Then he saw the trail of bloody footprints I had left in my wake.

  "Aye, just because I haven't mopped yet doesn't mean you're free to track a mess through here." His grey mustache sank as he frowned. "Every last one of you are inconsiderate miscreants. If you're going to bash the prisoners, then bash 'em in the torture cells with the drains."

  In an attempt to shut him up, I drew back my cloak, flashing my daggers. He picked up his broom and poked me in the chest with the end of it.

  "Huh? You wanna kill me? Please, go right ahead. Then this terrible responsibility can be passed onto another pathetic soul," the janitor ranted, spit flying out of his mouth. "What are you waiting for?"

  He prodded me again, and I grabbed the broom's shaft. "Knock it off. This is Black Diamond's blood on my boots, and I'm far from finished making a mess. I'm seeking a woman who was captured tonight."

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  "I don't care who you are, or whose blood it is, or who you're looking for. I can't have you walking around like this. Wait here."

  I hardly believed the janitor's lax attitude toward his self-preservation as he waltzed over to a bucket, wet a rag and brought it back.

  "Wipe your damn feet," he said, tossing me the damp handkerchief.

  I obliged, partially because I was impressed by his conviction and partially because I just wanted some damn information and I knew arguing with him would be futile. After thoroughly wiping my boots clean, I gave him his rag back.

  "Now tell me where Black Diamond would be holding a woman they captured tonight," I demanded.

  "There's a special holding cell for high value persons. The normal holding cells are empty, I've already cleaned 'em. That way," the janitor said, pointing to a double-wide wooden door on the west side of the room.

  Before I could move another inch the door smashed open, ripping the hinges from its frame and showering the recently swept floor with splinters as Brythan came crashing through. The bandit lay sprawled out with his back against what was left of the door.

  "Aye, you inconsiderate bastards!" the janitor shouted at the top of his lungs. "Take it elsewhere!"

  Karma's Gaze activated as a towering fortress of a mercenary strode in with a polished wooden club resting against his shoulder. He wore a sleeveless set of metal armor, which I had no idea was a thing, and a pair of short chainmail shorts.

  Target: Krag

  Level: 6

  Karma: -1355

  Additional Data: The youngest of three brothers. Constantly bullied for being the smallest, until hitting a late growth spurt at 16. Despite a life of familial dramas, he and his brothers are closer than ever thanks to their joint work in Black Diamond Mercenary Company's Prisoner Retention Unit.

  "Die rodent!" Krag shouted as he brought his boot down, aiming for Brythan's head.

  The bandit rolled out of the way, narrowly keeping his skull intact as he jumped to his feet and was immediately thrust into a game of 'dodge the series of deadly blows.' Meanwhile, I watched and wondered how the Moonsewn Bandits had even made it up here.

  I just assumed they'd end up caught in the Cellar's seal. Actually, why weren't they snared in it? Had Celina misrepresented how much she really knew about the tower's layout? I had broken away from them without saying anything. Did she think I'd get trapped by the glyph lock? They never once mentioned what could've been the most important obstacle during our brief stint together.

  Krag's stained wooden club glistened even in the low light as he swung at the back of the bandit's head. But Brythan flipped backwards, strands of disheveled blonde hair escaping out of his tilted cowl as he landed off-kilter, facing certain death from Krag's follow-up. Yet, somehow he spun away, fell to all fours and scurried out from underneath another swing destined for his spine.

  Unfortunately, Brythan saw me as he jumped over another attack and sprinted in my direction. Krag wisely ended his pursuit, stopping halfway across the room. "Thank Galdir and his sweet sense of humor. It seems our fates are truly intertwined," Brythan panted as he took cover behind me.

  "How do you figure that?" I stepped aside and outstretched my arms, welcoming Krag to continue their fight.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Nothing. You look like you have this under control. Besides, I'm tired from breaking out of the glyph lock you all failed to mention."

  I stared into Brythan's eyes, searching for a flicker of guilty awareness or recognition of what I was implying, but came up with nothing except the dumbfounded expression of a man who wanted to be anywhere else on the planet but here.

  "Have you lost your mind? You disappeared out of nowhere! Please, we're all in the shit! Lina and Gus are fighting for their lives in there." Brythan pointed toward the doorway he'd been thrown through.

  Krag ignored my invitation, backing up even further instead, displaying better instincts than most of my prey.

  "Veigan, are you still listening?" he announced at the top of his lungs. "Send everyone. I don't know how much longer we'll be alive down here."

  A heavy breath crackled out of the ceiling like there was an amplified speaker system setup. "Speak again. I misheard."

  Without ever taking his eyes off me, Krag shouted, "I'm looking at the fourth intruder. The one Jankoh's team set out after in the Cellar."

  "Where are you?" the voice boomed through the room from no discernible direction, like it was emitting out of thin air.

  "Central Intake. Either he broke the fucking seal or there's a fifth hostile," Krag yelled across the room as he continued slowly backing away.

  I lowered my hood and smiled, pleased by Krag's instincts for properly recognizing the dire situation he was in. Finding myself genuinely enthralled by the weird game of telephone I was eavesdropping on, I wondered how it worked. Was magic or a technology I wasn't privy to?

  Another deep exhale echoed throughout the room, loud enough to make Brythan and the janitor shield their ears. "I confirm there are only four intruders. Perhaps Jankoh was mistaken and the fourth never entered the Cellar."

  "Have you heard from him since?" Krag yelled again, his voice hoarse.

  "No."

  "What about the squads dispatched earlier this evening for the adventurer contract? Have they returned?"

  "Not yet. They're still within the usual span for such an operation. "

  "Because, I think I'm looking at the man they were assigned to capture!"

  "Don't panic. I'm sending assistance."

  I offered Krag a gentle round of applause. "Impressive deduction. You're spot on."

  The brute shifted into the doorway as I took two innocent steps forward with my hands clasped behind my back. Hairs raised on the back of Krag's neck as iron clashed over his shoulder in the room behind him. Sweat stung his eyes, but he refused to blink.

  I stepped up onto a stone bench and cocked my head, carefully examining the floor, ceiling, and walls for a hidden speaker system or some kind of communication apparatus.

  "Can he still hear us?" I asked.

  "You have to shout," Krag said, squeezing his club, knuckles bleach-white, teeth clenched.

  "HELLO?!"

  The lack of immediate response made me wonder if the disembodied voice had been nothing more than a spell, its magic faded. Then an exasperated sigh crackled through the air, and I knew he was listening.

  I cupped my hands over my mouth and shouted, "My name is Cyprus. You kidnapped my healer. I want her back."

  "Your name and purpose are meaningless. You and your friends are not the first, nor will you be the last fools to wander into Black Diamond's domain seeking retribution or liberation. By dawn you'll know despair. By dusk you'll know pain. And by next month you won't remember your own names."

  The connection vanished.

  Did he just hang-up on me?