“How do I taste?” Sam’s voice was a pointed mixture of confusion and disgust. “Is that a normal thing you ask someone?”

  “Never met someone before,” the female responded, absentmindedly chewing on one of her wicked-looking claws.

  “Never…what?” Sam shifted awkwardly in the gully at the base of the tree, trying to decide if it was worth making a break for it.

  “Never met someone. I know my siblings, and I know our mother. But I've always known them. Can't know a draug. They're nothing but old bones and older hate.” Her words ended in a snarl, and the hairs on the back of Sam’s neck stood on end.

  “Answer the question,” the first one interjected. “What are you, thief?”

  Sam took a moment to consider how to respond. While neither ghoul had been overtly hostile, he knew that could change in an instant. Every one he’d seen had been crazed and bloodthirsty. Why were these ones different? He thought back to his quest: Discover the secrets of the Twilight Crypts. Now seemed as good a time as any.

  “I'm a human, from Earth. I'm a Warrior in the Seven Rings War.”

  The male squinted, clearly trying to ascertain if he was telling the truth. “A Warrior? Then how did you get here? Why did the gods send you to our world?”

  Sam cocked an eyebrow, subtly raising his shield. “I'm…not on your world. This place—these crypts. They're a Dungeon. You're on Olympos, on the Spire.”

  “Lies!” the female hissed, fur bristling. “The stone of Var’Gish embraces us, and you have the nerve to say we are not home?”

  “He reeks of draug,” the male snarled, clawed feet biting into the root beneath him. “He must be a tool of the oppressors. A mercenary brought in to finally break the siege.”

  Sam almost winced, but caught himself. The ghouls were surprisingly astute, even if they were missing critical information. He knew his chances of diplomacy were basically zero, but the human part of him still selfishly sought a peaceful resolution. Killing wild beasts and mindless skeletons was one thing. Killing a sapient creature, one who could talk; that was an entirely different proposition.

  “Look, I'm not sure what to tell you—” Even in his own ears, his voice sounded desperate. “I'm just a human, okay, a mannen. These crypts were transported to Mt Olympos by the Arbiter. I got trapped down here when I came exploring.”

  “Impossible,” the female snapped, waving around a clawed hand. “Do you think we wouldn't have noticed if the entire cavern was thrown across the stars? Do you take us for animals?”

  “No,” Sam replied slowly, “But I think you've been down here a long time. When was the last time you saw the surface?”

  “Bah!” the first one barked. “The surface? What kind of spy are you? Nothing survives on the surface. We are cavern-born. As are all of our kind for a thousand years. The skies of our world were burned in the Great Cataclysm. Everyone knows that.”

  “The Great Cataclysm? What's that?” Sam tried to keep his voice casual, but his heart was pounding in his chest.

  “Why do you claim ignorance? There is not a being among the cosmos who is unaware of the Cataclysm: the fire that bathed our world in blood and forced us underground. I see through your tricks. You've been sent here to kill us!”

  Sam felt the conversation quickly getting away from him. “I didn't come down here to hurt you. I never wanted any of this.” The words sounded hollow even in his own ears. Pangs of guilt ratcheted through his gut, but he pushed forward. “I've already killed a bunch of draug. Here, let me show you. I'm just looking for a way out.”

  He summoned a stack of ruined var weapons, creating a pile of rusted metal at his feet. The ghouls stopped to consider that, glowing red eyes narrowing as they conversed between one another in muffled grunts.

  “How do we know this isn't some kind of trick?” the female asked, a small hint of wonder creeping into her voice.

  “It's not a trick, I just want to get out of here. I don't mean your kind any harm.” The words came out with as much sincerity as he could muster, but above him, the [Great Nemesian Bloodroot] began to sway, its branches creaking as if caught in an unseen storm.

  “It lies,” the male cooed, claws extending with an ominous thwick. “The mother knows. It thinks it can come into our home and take whatever it likes? It thinks it can take us for savages? Come, let us see what colour it bleeds.”

  Both ghouls sprang forward in unison. Sam’s vision filled with a maelstrom of slashing claws. He threw himself sideways, slamming into a wall of roots even as the female connected with his shield. The male went low, and he felt a line of fire draw across his shin, going right through his well-loved boot.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  His spear was trapped against his side, its longer reach useless in close quarters. He stored it and began lashing out with his fist. His knuckles connected squarely with the ghoul’s spongy flesh, and he was rewarded with a crunch of bone as he impacted the side of the beast’s temple. The female reeled backwards in shock, stunned and disoriented.

  He pivoted and slammed the rim of his shield down on the male who was taking another stab at his unarmoured legs. The thick metal band crushed the limb at the elbow, destroying the joint and causing the monster to let out a bloodcurdling howl.

  Sam’s [Warrior's Side Knife] was in his hand on the next swing, and he landed a few solid strikes into the beast’s torso. It recoiled as soon as he lifted his shield, and both ghūl retreated, faces twisted in pain.

  Sam took advantage of their indecision, planting his feet and leaping up onto one of the surrounding roots. His leg nearly buckled from the impact, but he managed to keep his feet. He wasn't sure who looked more shocked: him or the ghūl.

  Without much effort, he’d leapt almost eight feet straight up. It was the most obvious demonstration of his newfound strength, and he would have laughed if he weren't in so much pain. Howls echoed from the distance as more ghūl answered the call, and Sam knew his time under the radar had come to an end.

  “Now you’ve done it, human,” the female shrieked. “Our Mother has heard our call.”

  “What happened here?” Sam yelled, teeth gritted against the pain. He was determined to get some answers out of the injured ghūl. “What was the Great Cataclysm? Why can you no longer live on the surface?”

  The two exchanged glances, the male unsteady as he tried to staunch the blood flowing from multiple puncture wounds.

  “The gods punished us. They turned the sky red with fire and ash. They burned the oceans and turned fields to glass. Everyone knows it was the price for our rebellion. We, who were never selected to carry the light of the gods. Always lesser. Always beneath.” The last word was laced with venom, as generation upon generation of trauma oozed from the stunted muzzle.

  Despite the fact that the words were coming from a terrifying monster—one he had stabbed less than a minute ago—Sam couldn't help but feel a pang of pity. The beasts were wretched. Whatever their ancestors had done, Sam doubted it warranted a thousand years trapped underground.

  Some small part of his brain told him to walk away. A week ago, he’d been a university student, the only thing he’d ever killed had been a goldfish—and that had been an accident. Could he really kill in cold blood? These things were alive. They weren't a computer program or artificial intelligence. These monsters had been born, had lives. Could he really end them?

  He stood for a long moment at the top of the pit, staring down at the battered ghouls. Their fangs were bared, red eyes glowing beacons in the gloom. What he’d first perceived as anger now became clear: they were as scared as he was.

  Time slowed; the howls in the distance stretched into a klaxon’s drone. Above, the tree continued to sway. Its massive branches twisted in an invisible breeze, dispersing a cloud of glittering red pollen.

  The ghouls froze, their faces transforming into what Sam could only interpret as rapturous elation.

  “The Mother has heard us! The Ghūl calls, and Nemesis answers! Bless us, Mother! Bless us!”

  Yeah. No. Fuck that.

  He turned as fast as his wounded leg could carry him and shuffled towards one of the paths leading out of the courtyard. The cries of the injured ghūl set his teeth on edge, and he had no intention of finding out what ‘blessing’ the Matriarch had in mind.

  The bulk of the approaching forces were coming from the other direction, but he could feel the net closing in around him. His split-second of hesitation had cost him. He should have killed the ghouls when he had a chance. Should have stopped them from calling for help.

  He should have known better.

  There was no world where the gods would let him walk away. They wanted blood, whether his or that of other innocent creatures. He was simply a pawn on a board, a board he couldn't even see. Who was he to believe that he had any illusion of freedom? The bars of his prison were built into the fabric of reality itself.

  The pit in his stomach opened wider, anger pouring out like a broken dam. His arms tingled in response, the thick metal bands growing hotter against his skin.

  Why fight against the tide? It was hopeless. He was already dead. Already damned. All he could do now was get revenge. Revenge against the system and all those who’d stand in his way.

  Some distant corner of his brain registered the fact that [Apostate] was active on his HUD. The taste of pollen on his lips went unnoticed as the anger broke through any remaining barriers.

  All thought of retreat fled from his mind as the sound of scuffling feet rang in his ears. The two ghouls from the pit were charging at him across the courtyard, their muscles swollen, limbs contorted as they tripped over each other in their headlong rush.

  He dismissed his shield and met the charge, swinging his spear in a wide arc that took the male’s leg off at the knee. Sam sidestepped the flailing body and brought the point up into the female's throat. She didn't even look surprised, her hands continuing to claw at his chest even as the light in her eyes went out.

  He turned back to the male who was doggedly dragging itself towards him. If there was any indication that it cared about him killing its sibling—it didn’t show it. Its gaze was fixed on him with an unwavering fervour.

  Sam activated [Arcane Eyes] and nearly went blind at the sudden influx of information. Wincing, he inspected the mortally wounded ghoul.

  [Ghūl Juvenile - Iron - Corrupted (Frenzied) - Acolyte of Nemesis]

  A child of the caverns of Var’Gish, Ghūl Juveniles have never seen the light of their star. Hunters in the dark, they feast on the fear of their prey.

  The idea of killing what amounted to a teenager should have stopped the tip of his spear, but it barely registered as it took the ghoul through the eye. The anger coursing through him dimmed every other sensation, every contradictory thought or iota of doubt.

  He was an instrument of revenge. A deliverer of justice.

  A horde of ghouls burst out from the other corridors, their cries echoing among the branches and against the ancient stone. Sam grinned, relishing the prospect of more fuel for his desires. Their strength would become his, their corpses a stepping stone towards the Halls of Eternity.

  He bared his teeth and howled in response, answering their challenge. A swarm of glowing red eyes filled his vision as he charged into the fray.