“I have a plan,” I whispered to Eli.

Crouching behind a pile or corpses, Eli looked at me, his face contorted into countless grimaces. I didn’t know whether to laugh or act serious. He definitely hated it there.

“Another suicidal attempt to burn this place down?” Eli whispered back.

“We can’t stay in here,” I told him. “The banshee will find us, and we don’t have enough space to run around and dispose of those undead.”

“What do you suggest we do then?”

“I can banish Ofelia for a little while,” I said. “We’ll have to take care of the undead in the meantime then get the hell out of sight. We’re nowhere near finding a way to dispose of Lemien.”

Eli cast a quick glance at the prison corridors. Undead soldiers were running around, looking for the intruders. They weren’t the bright sort, we were very close, yet they didn’t think of inspecting the piles of corpses thoroughly.

“There are more than a dozen out there,” Eli said. “We can’t let them surround us.”

“I’ll draw them out of here,” I said. “You wait here until they all run after me.”

“What will you do about the banshee?” Eli asked.

“I told you. I’ll buy us sometime then we get rid of the search party.”

“She’ll come back, you know.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” I said. “Now get ready.”

Eli wanted to tell me something but I had already run out of the cell. There were about fifteen soldiers around us. I could easily dispose of them singlehandedly, but I had to stick to the plan. Something told me Lemien had an ace up his sleeve. I wasn’t going to run straight into his trap.

“Hey!” I yelled at the undead. “Looking for me?”

I ran for the other end of the corridor. More undead emerged from behind the cells. They groaned and moaned as they ran after me. They were faster than the ones I’d encountered the first time, near the city gate. I dodged the outstretched hands, shoved others back inside the cells they were searching, and kept running.

The number of undead following me increased. I could hear their footsteps echo behind me. I didn’t stop until I reached the end of the grim passageway though. I turned back to see them all running, yelling incomprehensible words at me. Behind me was a passageway leading to some stairs. In front of me was a horde of undead, cluttering the corridor.

I spotted Eli emerge from the cell behind them. It was time to act.

I didn’t need my sword for what was about to transpire. All I needed were my fists and some Essence to empower them. I aimed for the links the undead shared with their master. I punched the first one and felt the link break. Again, I’d put too much strength, or Essence, in my blow. The undead flew backward, toppling a row of others with him as he went.

The undead didn’t stop, they kept coming my way. I was hoping on that. Eli wasn’t good at sensing their links as much as I was. I hoped he’d thin the herd from behind while I beat the others to a pulp. It was going well before I heard other footsteps approaching from the stairs above me.

A green light shone bright between the undead Eli and I were beating. Ofelia emerged, ghastly, terrible, wailing. Eli clutched his head and started screaming. The remaining undead spotted him and turned to face him. I had to act fast.

I clung to the memory of my beloved, to her smile, to her smell, to the way she made me feel. It was difficult to bring those memories back and filter the pain and sadness away. Ofelia must have realized what I was attempting since she glided toward me.

The presence of a banshee is unnerving to say the least. Looking at her face alone is enough to erase all memories of happiness you’ve ever had in your life. Fortunately, I had but a few, and I made sure to cling to them tightly. Eli was still screaming his lungs out in the other side of the corridor. I wondered what the banshee had showed him.

She was inches from me then. My happy memories began blurring. I heard wails, and the sound of a whip cracking. I chased those thoughts I way and urged myself to focus. Ofelia was close, observing me with those hollow eyes. I shot her a determined look. I wasn’t going to lose to her this time. She knew it too, since she decided to inflate her chest. She was getting ready to blow me away. It was now or never.

“Electo!” I shouted, hands outstretched, legs firmly planted on the ground.

The banshee screamed at the same time. My banishing spell collided with her supersonic wave, and a loud explosion ensued. The last thing I heard was the banshee screaming, an otherworldly, painful, goosebump inducing, scream. The ground below us cracked. Then it gave way. Undead and living fell down. I felt the air leave my lungs. My stomach jumped to my throat. My jaws tightened, and my hair ruffled. We were falling, and I didn’t know where we’d land.

I broke the cold surface of the water and sank, deep. My body rolled uncontrollably. I’d hit something here and there. I took an incredible amount effort to keep my mouth shut, and the air inside. I kept rolling for an eternity. No matter how much I tried to fight back, the current was stronger than me. Then something hit me in the back and propelled me forward.

I stopped moving after a while. I couldn’t tell how long though. For a moment there, I thought I’d died. My heart was beating faster than it had ever been before. I only knew I was alive after I’d taken a good gulp of sour water.

The urge to cough it out required a tremendous amount of willpower to repress. I swallowed the liquid and braced myself for ascent. I was still alive, apparently unhurt. I beat my legs against the viscous liquid, trying to reach the surface.

There were more things arriving behind me. I couldn’t see well because of the darkness, nor could I hear what was happening above. I just beat those legs frantically. The surface must have been close, I couldn’t have been carried that far below. The air inside my lungs was screaming to be let out, to get something new to keep that heart of mine beating, to keep my brain functional.

Oh the agony of waiting to reach the surface…

I kept telling myself it was near. I had to encourage my limbs to keep beating. Who would do it otherwise? I couldn’t think of the banshee, Lemien, or the undead then. All I could think of was the morbid possibility of drowning. My lungs were at their limit. It was too dark to see any light reflecting on the water surface either.

My heart started beating against my chest. It felt as though it was inflated now, too weak to keep going. My head had grown fuzzy. Only the silence of the deep water surrounded me. It was me and my heartbeat… slow… going “Tudum…Tudum…Tudum…”

In retrospect, it was that rhythm that kept me going. I listened to it, while I urged my lungs to stay patient. I begged my limbs to keep beating. It was actually the calmest I’ve ever felt in a long while.

It was me against Mother Nature. It was very simple, live and surface, or drown and die. It was simpler than scheming, fighting against foes you knew nothing about. It was raw, primal.

My hands finally broke the water surface, and you can’t imagine my joy at breathing fresh air. I inhaled for the longest period of time my lungs could allow, and they allowed for much more than usual. I was looking up, laughing hysterically.

“Myles?” I heard Eli’s voice calling out to me.

I looked around but couldn’t see my skinny friend.

“Eli?” I called back tentatively. “I can’t see anything in this darkness.”

“Just follow my voice,” Eli said. “There’s a ledge you can climb onto here.”

“Alright,” I said. “Just keep talking. I’ll head your way.”

I extended my senses toward him, just to be safe. It was my old friend alright. I started swimming toward him.

“What happened up there?” he asked.

“I tried to banish the damn banshee,” I said. “She tried to shout me to death. Our forces collided I guess, and the explosion brought us here.”

“We’re lucky there was water underneath the tower then,” Eli said. I swam toward his voice every time he spoke. It was then that I realized something was amiss about it. He was panting a bit too heavily.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

“Something hit me when I fell underwater,” Eli said. “I dunno what it was, but my leg’s bleeding, quite heavily.”

“Keep talking,” I urged him. His voice was getting louder, closer.

“That freaking banshee man,” he said. “The moment I saw her, I started hearing things, seeing things…”

“It’s the effect she has on people,” I said. I swam further. I could make out some dark shape ahead of me. “Never allow her to get to you. She’s nasty.”

“Tell me about it,” Eli said. “I’ve seen things I struggled to forget about. I couldn’t take it man.”

“She’s gone now,” I said. I was near him then. “Would you lend me a hand?”

Eli stretched a helping hand and helped me up. We were on a wide platform, some old road by the looks of it. There were cobble stones on the floor, stretching forward.

“Let me have a look at your wound,” I said as soon as I got up.

“Here,” Eli pointed to his left thigh.

“That’s a sword cut,” I told him. “Maybe one of those undead cut you while we plummeted down here.”

“Could be,” Eli replied.

“Can you walk?”

“If you help me,” he said.

I didn’t need to ask him how he survived. I knew full well what the need to survive does to a person. Adrenaline rushes through our system and we fight, struggle to the last breath. I helped Eli up and we followed the road. It didn’t take us much time to reach the end.

A vast stone gate blocked our way. Fortunately, the passing of time, and perhaps water erosion, didn’t do it justice. I squeezed through a gap then helped my injured friend in. We found ourselves in a spacious place. There were lit torches, scattered around the numerous pillars that presented themselves to us.

“What is this place?” I whispered.

“Looks like some old water cleansing cistern,” Eli replied. “See the vault in the ceiling? It’s still standing, despite all the erosion around us. I’ve seen something like this back in my hometown.”

We moved forward, our footsteps echoing through the empty place.

“Someone’s definitely living here,” I said. “We’d better be on our guard.”

“Let’s look around,” Eli said. “I need someplace to lie down and tend to this wound too.”

“You shouldn’t look far,” a voice, childish, reached us from behind the pillars.

We turned to our left. There was a Sebyan, the smallest one I’ve ever seen, looking at us with keen eyes. He didn’t have any fangs. His dark green skin was wrinkled. His white hair extended to the floor. His beard was neatly trimmed, hiding his wide square jaw.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Name’s Boon Jeema,” the tiny Sebyan said. “Your friend’s badly injured. Why don’t we take care of that first?”