The eidolon climbed lower and lower along a twisting trail that led under the forum. As he descended, he passed between structures grown on the very bones of the city. Crumbling walls and grand columns stood three times his height and even more, supporting the tower above.

All around him, the city lived, moving and groaning in its own twisted manner. Yet, even here, he saw the small creatures of the lower city, scuttling insects and things with far more limbs than they needed, or perhaps far less than they needed. Their oblong bodies moved in a stagger, crawling around him as he moved amongst them. They grabbed and reached, shuffling in their weird movements. The eidolon strode on with his companions close, knowing that the scuttling animals were mindless and posed no threat to their order.

Bile built in the back of his throat at the sight of the verminous creatures. The eidolon continued down and around until he came to a structure that stretched further into the depths. In truth, the spire was a bone palace, one the eidolon knew to have been first picked up and carried by mighty Acetyn in an age before. Though the shrine was inaccessible for now, there were other interior sections in the structure. He and his order had been instructed upon them. Through another arch, the fleshy walls and interior were covered with remnants of animal skins and thick furs, turning from the random pattern of a foreign invasion to that of a royal court. It was adorned with jewels and woven sigils in a tight, rich design, but it was long rotted with age. Here, they joined three others, carved into the same bipedal shape, equally shelled in star metal and armed for war as his companions.

Less than one hundred of the Pilgrim’s footmen were left in the city, remnants of a once-mighty army that laid the world bare in an age before age. Now assembled six of their grace’s most trusted warriors, entrusted with ensuring that what was to come could not be interrupted.

“My shape, my kin,” they all spoke in unison before the foremost stabbed a sharp gauntlet against his map, scoring the table.

“The hound is hidden within the depths,” said Sir Enhash, ever filled with spite. “It stalks our halls, preying upon those who wander the ward without trial.”

The eidolon did not need to turn his own head to tell that others were disgusted by the perversion of their ritual and the blatant disregard for innocents travelling the city.

“We track the beast’s progress, gathering information, maintaining distance,” added Llewtoll, who was vigilant and predatory. “The creature has slaughtered every one of our seekers.”

From a corner, the hulk of Taneberr the wrotheful barked, “We must strike now and eradicate it from this place.”

The eidolon waited for their words, their assent, but didn’t need to wait long. At his sides, Marchemm and Menmarch, ever obedient and carved from the same vat-born, were of like mind. So he looked over the maps, stretched out over the table’s surface, and considered the situation.

“But we do not know where it is now,” the eidolon said, looking to Taneberr and then Llewtoll for confirmation. They gave it reluctantly and carefully in turn. Having surrendered his identity, the eidolon was honoured to take charge of these warriors, a sacrifice interrupted by this invading monster.

After consideration, the eidolon took down the map where the hound was spotted last and flicked through the collection for a thousand days before. Finally, he found what he sought on a slab of flayed flesh. The hound had been spotted again close to their location, deep. It was always so deep.

“The hound has been travelling under the forum,” the eidolon pointed, and the others nodded. “We can be certain it is not stationary and we have not the numbers to scour every passage. So we must drive it out.”

“The cavity is sick with fevers,” Sir Enhash noted quietly. “Perhaps a rare provenance.”

The eidolon’s broad head turned heavily, the skin along its sharp ridges pulling tightly away from the bone.

“The cavity is sick,” he repeated thoughtfully.

“We have felt it ourselves,” Menmarch replied, his thin lips pursing into a tight line. “It flows through the halls, along the alleys.”

“Sickness then, it has truly taken a hold of this city,” Llewtoll hissed.

“All the more reason to kill this beast quickly and complete our glorious work,” Taneberr growled.

“I agree,” the eidolon replied, turning back to Sir Enhash. “We will bring it out with the six of us to surround it. I know exactly how to draw it out.”