I watched Balt press the guard harder into the wall, his forearm digging into the man’s chest. “How many more of you are there?” he demanded.

  No answer. The guard’s eyes stared past him, glassy, unfocused, as if Balt’s words were nothing but echoes in the stone.

  Balt’s jaw tightened. “Where’s your master? Are the prisoners still alive?”

  Still nothing. Just that vacant look, like the man wasn’t even inside his own body.

  I shifted my weight, keeping watch over the chamber. A single lantern burned beside what looked like the main tunnel, the same marker Leon had described as the entry point where he and the others had been held.

  Its flame hissed softly, casting a frail circle of light that barely pushed back the dark as the tunnel sloped downward. Shadows stretched long across the jagged walls, twisting with every flicker. Overhead, the ceiling was unnaturally smooth. Magic had obviously shaped this place; no natural cave would have walls so perfectly carved.

  Sara stood beside me, breathing hard, her eyes wide and panicked as she stared into the darkness. I motioned her closer. “You want to help?” She nodded erratically. I whispered in her ear. She looked at me in confusion, but I just shook my head and motioned to the guard. “I’m telling you it will work.”

  A dagger flashed into the noblewoman’s hand as she strode up to Balt and the guard. “Listen here, guardsman,” she said, her tone sharp. “Either you start talking, or you’re about to get the ol’ dick twist.”

  Balt’s eyes went wide, nearly losing his grip on the man then and there. I willed him mentally to hang in there. The man just stared back hollow-eyed.

  Sara angled the blade toward the guard’s groin. “You heard me. Keep giving us the wordless stare act, and you’ll find out exactly how bad the ol’ dick twist can be!”

  Balt clamped a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking. I wasn’t much better; trying and failing to stifle laughter.

  Sara froze, realization dawning as she looked us both over. Her face flushed crimson, features scrunching in outrage. “You two are absolute assholes!”

  That only made us laugh harder. Balt never loosened his hold on the guard, but now Sara looked ready to stab me instead. I raised both hands in surrender. “Hey, you were wound tighter than a bowstring.” I had to do something to loosen you up.”

  I pressed Ember against the guard’s throat, the blade biting just enough to draw a bead of blood. No more followed. The man only stared back at me, eyes empty and unblinking.

  “He’s either the most stoic bastard I’ve ever met,” I muttered, “or there’s magic at work. I feel no aura from him, and he hasn’t drawn a single breath since I laid eyes on him. My cut nicked an artery, yet almost no blood came out.”

  Balt’s expression hardened. “You’re right, Riven. No aura, no breath. Something’s anchoring him here, like a puppet with the strings cut, but he’s still standing.”

  I slid Ember free in one swift motion and severed his head, ending the charade.

  We dragged the bodies into a shadowed alcove, stacking them behind a fall of stone where the lantern’s glow couldn’t reach. It wasn’t perfect, but it would buy us time if anyone came looking. I dismissed Ember; for better or worse, my weapon was a torch in the darkness that would give us away. So far, we had been extremely lucky; no one had come up from the tunnels to engage us, that alone felt wrong.

  I took point and started down the main tunnel. The light of the lantern quickly faded until only the scrape of boots and the whisper of our breathing filled the dark tunnel. The walls pressed close, unnaturally smooth, twisting left, then right, then back again in a pattern that felt more deliberate than natural.

  I forced my breathing steady as I led us forward through the darkness. I periodically stopped and tried to hear if any footsteps were heading our way. My right hand stayed open, ready for Ember to appear at a moment’s notice, while my left brushed the wall for balance as the path sloped deeper.

  I had been listening intently for anything, and when the tunnel started to curve to the left slightly, I heard something. Somewhere ahead, faint but distinct, came the murmur of voices. Not echoes, not tricks of the stone, real voices, carried on the stale air. I raised my hand to halt the others, straining my ears to catch the words.

  A woman’s voice was barely audible, and I was only catching every other word. “They… taken Jory… we… help.”

  I eased my head around the corner and froze. Another vast cavern yawned before me. My eyes had long adjusted to the dark, and I could see at the far end, carved into the rock, stood a crude cell fashioned from dark timber and what looked disturbingly like bone. The bars rose nearly ten feet high, vanishing into the stone above. Inside, I could just make out three figures: two men swathed in bandages and a woman. All of them trembled, their bodies shuddering with uncontrollable spasms.

  I drew back from the corner, jaw tight. I backed away silently to where Sara and Balt waited in the shadows. “Three prisoners,” I whispered, keeping my voice low as I could. “Two men, bandaged from the neck down, and a woman. All of them shaking like they’re half-dead.” My eyes flicked back toward the cavern. “No guards in sight, but with Talents in the mix, who can be sure. Stay close, stay sharp. We move slowly and quietly.”

  I kept low, skirting the cavern wall, every step measured to keep my boots from scraping stone. The air was damp, heavy with the stink of mildew and something sour. The crude cell loomed larger with each step, its bars of dark wood and bone rising like the ribs of some dead beast.

  I eased up to the bars, close enough now to see the prisoners clearly. Bandages in dark black clung to the men, their bodies twitching with tremors. The woman now sat slumped between them, her hair matted, her skin pale beneath the grime.

  Behind me, I caught the soft pad of footsteps. Sara, moving in close, her presence steady at my back.

  The woman’s head lifted. Her eyes, dull at first, went wide as they found Sara, recognition blazing through the haze of exhaustion. “...Patricia,” Sara breathed out, the name falling from her lips before I could stop it. The lady scrambled to her feet, running up to the bars. “Is that really you, Lady Sara?”

  Patricia’s fingers curled white-knuckled around the bars, her voice breaking with desperation. “Watch out,” she hissed, eyes darting toward the cavern’s shadows. “The bone monster was just here. He took Samuel down there to the pit.”

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  A chill ran down my spine. I scanned the darkness, every muscle coiled, but the cavern remained silent.

  Patricia pressed closer, her words tumbling out in a rush. “Jason and Brandon, they need help. These collars suppress our magic and Talents and I can’t use my healing on them.”

  I noticed Balt perk up at the mention of her healing. She continued. “The bone monsters are processing more Blackfern down there than I have ever seen and using us as disposable workers. They wound us when we don’t work fast enough, then put the bandages over the wounds. It’s so concentrated … it… it’s killing them. But if I take it off of them,” her voice cracked, “they’ll die from the withdrawal like Darren did.”

  Her gaze locked on mine, pleading, as though I could solve the impossible choice she was forced to endure. My eyes caught on the iron collar at her throat, and that was enough.

  I called on Regalia. Power surged through me, effortlessly, without the faintest strain. My new armor was as much an offensive weapon as a defensive weapon now. Patricia flinched at the flare of energy that always came with my armor and shrank back.

  “It’s all right, Patricia,” Sara said gently, stepping forward. “They’re here to help.”

  I summoned Ember. In a single breath, the blade sang, carving through the wooden bars until a rough doorway gaped open. Stepping inside, I approached the woman. She recoiled, but I let Regalia fade and lowered my hand, palm open.

  With a steady voice, I said, “My name is Riven and like Sara told you, we’re here to help. Come closer, and I’ll cut that collar off.”

  I stepped closer, Ember still warm in my grip, when Sara’s hand shot out.

  “You need the key,” she whispered urgently. “No blade can cut these collars. And if you try, it alerts the kobolds. Trust me.”

  I softened my gaze. “Do not believe everything an enemy tells you, and even if it’s true, I am confident I can handle whatever comes along and still get you all to safety.”

  Patricia’s eyes flicked between Sara and me, the fear and hope warring on her expression. Then she drew in a shaky breath and edged closer, holding the collar away from her throat. I raised Ember. The collar hissed as the blade bit through, and with a sharp crack it split cleanly in two. No alarm. No surge of magic. Just silence. Patricia sagged forward, clutching her neck in disbelief.

  Before she could speak, I turned to Balt. “Here’s the play. I’m cutting the others free. Stay with Patricia. Once her mana recovers, let her heal them enough to keep them alive. Then lead them out the way we came. Don’t touch the bandages, keep them on. They’ll need them until we figure out how to counter whatever poison’s in their system.”

  “I really think we should stick together, kid,” Balt muttered, his voice low but edged with concern.

  “I hear you,” I said, keeping my tone steady. “But don’t worry, I won’t be long. I’m going to scout ahead, see what the hell’s going on. Something about this doesn’t sit right. If we don’t find the crest fast, I’ll come back. Maybe we can even find Riker and the one they just dragged off. We need that crest to complete our System Task. We’re too close to stop now.”

  Balt gave a curt nod, already moving to steady Patricia.

  I looked back at Sara. “Your necklace, what direction?”

  She lifted the jade pendant in her palm. The stone pulsed faintly, tugging toward the dark.

  “It’s pointing straight down the tunnel,” she said.

  I crossed to the other two prisoners and cut their collars free, the sharp crack of metal echoing in the cavern. Both slumped, breathing ragged but alive.

  I turned back to Sara, tightening my grip on Ember. “Let’s move.”

  As we moved down the tunnel, the air grew colder with every step. The walls narrowed, then opened again onto a stretch lined with doors, each one set deep into the stone.

  I tried the first one. Empty. Just bare rock and dust.

  The second, same thing. Nothing but silence and stale air. The third creaked open to reveal another hollow chamber, as if someone had carved out space and abandoned it.

  Frustration gnawed at me. Then we came to a door that refused to budge. The handle rattled but held fast, the lock biting deep. I set my shoulder against it, Ember flashing once, and the wood splintered inward.

  The room beyond stopped me cold. Lavish. Out of place. A massive bed draped in silks dominated the center; the walls hung with tapestries that shimmered faintly in the torchlight. It was like stepping into another world, decadent and wrong in the heart of this dungeon.

  Before I could take it in, Sara darted past me, her eyes fixed on the far side of the room. Sara knelt, reached under a carved chest, and stood up with her hand tightly closed around a gleaming crest.

  Her face lit up, laughter spilling out, bright and unrestrained. “We got it!” she cried, holding the crest high.

  For the first time since entering this cursed place, I felt a spark of hope flare in my chest.

  I tightened my grip on Ember and glanced at Sara. “Let’s see if we can find your friends.”

  We continued our descent down the tunnel. By now, we had to be nearly a mile underground. The stone beneath my boots was no longer smooth but scored with long, jagged claw marks. The walls kept opening wider and wider the farther we went.

  Finally, we came to a pair of massive doors, their edges cracked just enough to show a sliver of light beyond. A lone kobold stood guard, a helm far too large for its snout slipping down over its eyes.

  I Flash Stepped, cutting the kobold down before it could even squeal. I stepped over the body and eased closer to peer inside, then by blood ran cold.

  The cavern beyond was vast, lit by a sickly glow. Thousands of kobolds stood in perfect stillness, their eyes vacant and their bodies rigid as statues. Among them, scattered in clusters, were hundreds of humans wearing armor, unmoving.

  At the far end, raised high on a dais, stood a man well dressed in blue and gold fabric with a wide smile on his face.

  He was flanked by three Ardents and a creature that looked humanoid sitting on a throne. The creature’s armor was black and gold, ornate and cruel, with jagged spikes coming off the shoulders. In one gauntleted hand he held another man aloft by the throat, dangling like a broken doll. In the other, a crimson dagger caught the light, its edge dripping with menace.

  I motioned Sara forward and kept my voice low. “Stay calm when you look, it’s not a pretty sight.”

  She leaned in, froze, and I stepped aside to give her room. Her breath caught. “That’s Riker… just standing there, right next to those monsters.”

  I set a hand on her shoulder, leaning close to whisper in her ear. “Don’t use Identify. Some creatures can sense it and then we’re in real trouble if that army comes at us.”

  Sara pulled back from the slit, tears brimming in her eyes. Her voice trembled. “That creature… it’s holding Jory by the throat. We must do something.”

  I forced myself to look through the slit again, though every instinct screamed to get out of there. But I had to see what was about to happen; any information would be critical in the days to come.

  The man in black and gold drove the crimson dagger straight into Jory’s chest. The blade sank deep, and Jory’s body convulsed violently, spasms wracking him before he went limp in the warlord’s grip. My breath caught in my throat.

  Then, impossibly, Jory’s head snapped upright. His limbs straightened with jerky, unnatural precision, like a puppet yanked by invisible strings. His eyes were empty, hollow and yet he stood.

  My attention had been on the ritual, but something felt off, so I scanned the dais. Riker and one of the Ardents were now missing.

  I turned away from the door. It was time to leave. Sara’s hand shot out, clutching my shirt in panic. “What about Riker? What about Jory?”

  I met her eyes; the words tasted like ash. “I’m sorry. Jory, as you knew him, is dead, and unless I miss my guess, Riker is with the enemy.” Her eyes went wide, and tears formed. I had to get her to focus. “If we remain here any longer, that army will capture us, and it will catch everyone you love flat-footed. Now run.”

  Just as I had spoken the words, a crack in the tunnel wall appeared in the direction we needed to flee, and an Ardent stepped out. Right behind him was Riker with a lazy grin on his face. “Well, hey Sara, long time no see. Who’s your friend?”