The brothers found themselves seated on some overturned crates as the hour passed, and Elora wasn’t far off. She sat on the ground and had small wooden tokens spread before her. The fire in an iron barrow lit up what she was doing.

  She grabbed a small piece of them carefully, and slowly she started curving runes into them.

  “What’s that?” Darrow asked after a while of watching her.

  “Protection charms,” she said.

  “What do they do?” he asked, looking even more interested.

  “If a blow would kill you, this will break instead. its the fist thing father ever taught me.” she said, sticking her tongue to the side, making sure to correctly create the enchantment.

  “Useful,” Damian said.

  “Can you make it? Like enough for all of us?” Darrow asked.

  “Working on it,” she said. Then, fidgeting some more, she concentrated, and mana glowed between her fingers.

  Darrow watched, and for the first time, Damian thought he could see the look of fascination in his brother’s eyes.

  “Can you teach me?”

  “Enchanting?” she asked.

  “Yah. Seems fun,” he shrugged.

  Now, at this point, Damian couldn’t tell if Darrow was flirting or being genuine.

  “It’s not fun. It’s a discipline,” she muttered.

  “Still want to learn,” Darrow said before he heard Damian chuckle softly.

  “You say that about anything that has the potential to be dangerous.”

  “Well, does he have a magic class?” she asked.

  “Sort of,” Darrow said, shrugging and unsure.

  If their secret class was magical, they didn’t know. It was one of those things they had to find out without Cassandra. They didn't want to undergo even more training to prepare for the big bad thing that she was always so worried about.

  “Okay,” she answered absently.

  A group of goblins and other taller figures passed by. They looked at what she was doing and didn’t linger, moving along as they whispered. A hooded figure walked over, looked down at what she was doing, then walked away.

  A goblin scout ran into the tent, then a moment later Grimjaw stepped out, a sharpening stone in his hand and his cleaver in the other.

  “Revenants,” he muttered and spat to the side.

  “Do portals open down here in the sewers?” Damian asked as he approached.

  “They do. Adventures come once in a while. the rest we must do it ourselves,” he said.

  Damian looked around. With how many portals opened on the surface, he could only guess a fairly similar number opened in the tunnels.

  “Not enough goblins for the portals.”

  “So just stay away. You won’t be corrupted by that much dungeon magic,” Damian said.

  “We do. The unlucky ones go mad, lose minds.”

  “You think someone is doing this on purpose then?”

  “Yes, someone powerful.”

  “You think that’s why they need my father? To make more of the corrupted?” Elora asked, looking up and suddenly feeling sick to her stomach.

  “Impossible!” Darrow muttered.

  “But someone is making corrupted revenants.”

  “Magic twists everything, even the mind,” Grimjaw shrugged.

  The goblin scout in the distance nodded, and they noticed.

  Elora finished with the curving on the last token.

  “Done,” she said.

  She handed each of them three tokens, and as the two held the square flat objects, the wood hummed with stored mana.

  “Thank you,” Damian said sincerely.

  “See? Not useless.” Darrow grinned.

  Elora rolled her eyes but gave them a smile as the goblin scout returned, panting.

  He bowed slightly, then went on to explain what they saw in the tunnels.

  “Found something, boss,” he said.

  “Show me,” Grimjaw said, looking at a tunnel to the right, then back at the trio.

  They looked ready, and he nodded.

  “You come too,” he said.

  Damian nodded, Darrow grabbed his daggers, and Elora put her tools in her satchel.

  They followed the goblin scout into the tunnels, and Damian couldn’t help but glance back at Elora. He hoped they could find her father.

  The air was thick in the tunnel, almost heavy at times. There were mosquitoes and other types of bugs, and even a metallic taste that lingered on their tongues.

  In this strange underground world, which the citizens of the City of Cities didn't think about or chose not to think about, there was life, and here Darrow found the bugs most intriguing.

  They hadn’t seen many in the camp, and he wondered how they kept them out.

  As they walked, water trickled along one end of the tunnel, carrying a thin red sheen with it. A rat squeaked at them as they passed too close to its home, and they kept on walking but made sure to avoid its nest.

  Damian moved ahead with his sword drawn, and Darrow held up a mana lamp that Elora quickly lit up, then stepped back.

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  She covered her mouth with her sleeve.

  “Smells worse than even the last tunnels we were in,” she muttered.

  “That’s because it’s fresher. Think about it,” Darrow replied, then gagged a moment later.

  Grimjaw just grunted for them to be quiet. Together with a few of the much smaller goblins who wore small dark shirts and pants, he led the group through tunnels.

  Behind them also were two goblin scouts who went quiet, lowering their voices to hushed whispers.

  It was after a while that the hobgoblin spoke again. He raised his hand and stopped. This caused the goblin directly behind him to stumble into him. The small goblin scratched his face, then started to complain.

  “Quiet,” Grimjaw growled at the goblin, and everyone stopped in their tracks.

  Ahead, faint splashes echoed into the darkness. It was the sound water made when someone threw something into a pond or a fountain.

  Although Damian couldn’t see or hear whatever had made Grimjaw hesitate, Darrow could clearly hear them or see whatever was.

  Damian looked at his brother, then raised his sword. He nodded toward a dim flickering light around the bend in the tunnel, and Darrow nodded back.

  The group came around the corner, and they froze. Damian and Darrow instantly raised their weapons. The goblins just looked confused, and Grimjaw frowned.

  There was a silhouette standing knee-deep in the murky water of the tunnels. Its humanoid body moved stiffly, jerking unnaturally.

  Its hand lifted in the same motion, holding something before throwing it into the water. The object, or whatever it was, splashed.

  Darrow squinted.

  “Was that… an arm?” he asked, trying to understand if they had all seen what he had.

  “No, it can’t be,” Elora whispered back, also not believing her eyes.

  Another splash, and this time they paid close attention. They watched as more severed limbs were thrown into the slow current of the swampy tunnel water.

  The sound of flesh hitting water sounded awfully, disturbingly wet. Maybe it was because it was a severed leg.

  One of the goblin scouts dressed in a small cloak gasped, causing the others to look her way. The gasp had been too loud in the shadow they were hiding behind, but she didn’t care for what they thought.

  “Grimjaw… I know him,” she whispered.

  The group turned back to look at her clearly and tried to understand, or at least show their sympathies.

  “Stay,” Grimjaw warned as she started walking forward, but the goblin didn’t listen. She walked forward.

  “It’s my brother,” she said, her voice breaking as she stepped forward anyway.

  “Wait,” someone tried to say.

  “It’s my brother he was watching the tunnels last week,” she continued.

  “Wait… don’t,” Damian said as he reached out to stop her.

  He tried to keep her hidden around the corner, but the small goblin stepped forward and into the dim light of the tunnel. She was trembling.

  The corrupted goblin turned, its back cracked at an impossible angle, and the goblin froze. The corrupted had eyes that were dark pools, and its skin was bloated. It had swellings.

  The goblin scout froze as its dark eyes landed on her. The corrupted tilted its head. She also tilted her head, trying to communicate, but it gurgled at the scout, then jumped at her.

  The goblin scout screamed as she stumbled back.

  “No! No, it’s me. It’s me!” she tried to say. But the revenant lunged forward.

  It snapped, and before she could come to her senses and realise the goblin she knew was gone, there was a twinge in the air.

  A crossbow bolt slammed into the corrupted goblin’s chest. It jerked backwards but didn’t fall.

  The goblin holding the oversized crossbow grinned, then used what looked like a skill to load another and fire the heavy crossbow.

  A second bolt flew and hit the corrupted goblin, driving it into the wall. The corrupted goblin convulsed, then gurgled and twitched one last time before going completely still and silent.

  Blood bubbled from the black wound. The goblin scout just looked on. She could still hear her small goblin heart racing.

  She looked back, then at the goblin scout in the hood who was busy placing her crossbow on her back where she had pulled it from.

  “Not goblin,” the goblin scout said, and Grimjaw nodded.

  "Not goblin any more."

  She couldn’t argue. She picked herself up and rushed over to the deformed, corrupted goblin.

  She looked at him, and she dropped to her knees.

  “Brother,” she whispered in goblin tongue.

  She reached to touch him one last time, but the body twitched one last time. This time, it was her crossbow aimed at the goblin’s dead body.

  There were tears in her yellow pupils, and that’s when she knew he was gone.

  Darrow watched the goblin scout put her crossbow away. If he expected tears, there were none. The goblin just grabbed the necklace off her brother’s neck—or at least she tried.

  “Happens all the time,” Grimjaw told them. He pulled his necklace out, and there were five gator teeth.

  “Gator teeth?” Damian noticed, raising an eyebrow.

  Grimjaw nodded.

  “Five gator teeth. Five brothers,” he said.

  Damian looked at the goblin, then at the necklace she was fidgeting with.

  The goblin tried yanking it, but it looked like it was tied up too tightly, or maybe she didn’t want to take it and accept he was gone.

  He nodded in understanding. The other goblins averted their eyes—looking up, down, and even at pretend-dirt on their clothes—giving the goblin a chance to finish taking the necklace.

  The smell of rot started filling the air, and Elora hesitated, but she also looked away.

  After that was done, Elora came up to the small, short goblin. She ignored the smell of the rapidly decaying corpse and lowered her hand to her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

  Grimjaw just walked past them, and he didn’t say a word. He let the goblin finish whatever she was doing.

  Instead, he watched as the water carried away what was left of the severed limbs. Damian walked past the two as well. He knelt down and touched the sack.

  He looked inside. He didn’t know what he expected, but it was filled with severed arms, legs, and even claws. He gagged and closed the sack back up.

  “Why was he doing it?” Damian asked.

  “Do the corrupted even think?” Darrow asked a question of his own.

  “Think someone told it to do this.”

  “Well, it looked brain-dead and crazy,” Darrow said as he lowered his voice.

  Grimjaw walked over. He went down on one knee and touched the smear of blood in the water. He touched his fingers together.

  “If you’re right, we just have to follow the trail,” Damian said, looking at the trail of blood.

  They all looked down and saw the trail of dark blood leading further into the cave.

  Darrow’s eyes followed the trail. He had so many questions: first of all, someone had to be controlling it, and second of all, why was it so weak compared to the ones that attacked them on the surface?

  Damian caught his look.

  “I know,” he said.

  “It’s much weaker than the one that attacked us,” Darrow said.

  With that thought in mind, they got up and followed. They clearly didn’t know what was going on, but at least… at least this time they would be prepared, because they knew it was all connected.

  Grimjaw let the scouts lead the way. This time, he stayed back, talking to the much taller goblin scout who had fired the crossbow.

  They moved as one through the tunnels, and if Elora was to believe her nose, the stench just kept getting worse, and yet the blood trail just kept on going.

  “It feels like we are walking through a tunnel worm’s throat,” Darrow said, and the goblins burst out laughing.

  They laughed and pointed, then laughed again. Darrow folded his arms.

  “Stupid human,” one said, and Darrow’s head whipped around so fast that his glare sent the goblin stumbling.

  “Tunnel worms are tiny,” Grimjaw gestured with his finger.

  Damian and Darrow both frowned. They looked at each other. Darrow scratched his head and moved to ask the question, and Grimjaw gave him a knowing smile.

  “What you meant was a maw. Big, dumb, and lazy,” he said.

  “Don’t worry. You won’t find any of them up here,” the taller goblin scout walking beside him added.

  It was dimly lit, but even Grimjaw saw the arched eyebrow Damian gave him.

  “Are you sure?” Elora asked suddenly, looking unsure if the walls were walls.

  “They are in the lower tunnels.”

  Darrow looked down as if someone had told him he was stepping on uneven ground.

  “There are more tunnels beneath us?” he asked.

  “How far deep?” Damian asked a more realistic question.

  “Never seen the bottom,” Grimjaw answered.

  Suddenly, a goblin scout squeezed his way to Darrow. He lifted a fat-looking thing in his hands and pushed it right in Darrow’s face—at least he tried to.

  “What’s that?” the rogue hesitated to ask.

  “Tunnel worm. See. small.” he annunciated as if he was talking to a particularly ignorant child.

  Darrow bent down to peer closer, and the worm-no, maggot-like creature wiggled.

  Elora raised her hand to push the thing away as she covered her mouth.

  Darrow leaned back so fast that he almost hit the tunnel wall.

  A gloved hand grabbed it, intending to throw it into the flowing water to the side.

  “That was not yours, Penny,” the goblin said and tried to whistle with the other scout.

  She used one hand to hold her fellow goblin off and tossed the grub with the other. Then, a moment later, a much larger worm-like creature came up and grabbed it.

  “What was that?” Darrow asked.

  “Swamp eel,” the goblin they called Penny said. Darrow and Elora both shivered visibly.

  “Is there anything else?” Damian asked, more in curiosity than anything else.

  “Yes,” Penny answered, and he didn’t miss the way Grimjaw raised an eyebrow.

  “There are tunnel hounds, blood leeches, rat kings, even smogs,” Grimjaw said.

  Suddenly, Damian was not feeling all that safe. He looked around.

  “Is that all?” he asked.

  “Not sure,” the hobgoblin said, slapping him on the back and arching an eyebrow when he didn’t seem moved by the impact.

  That was thanks to his [Lesser Strength] skill.