The rungs creaked under Kat’s weight as she slowly descended down the aged ladder, the rust on the metal making her question the stability of the structure. Down look down, she reminded herself. The ladder plunged straight to the bottom—if she slipped or go tired, it would prove to be a long fall. She had found the passageway behind locked doors and rusted gates, and it seemed to go down far enough to reach the bottom of the Gates. It was most likely used during construction, based on the lack of maintenance and its sealed nature.

“You all right, Norus?” she asked upwards, the soldier only a few rungs above her. He was supporting the boy on his shoulders and they were descending together, coordinating with breaths and grunts as they moved step by step down the rungs. Willem had their only torch bound to his arm with cloth and rope, the heat from it enough to make them all sweat in their armor. Norus gave a terse growl in reply, and Kat decided that it was as close to a yes as she would get from him.

The monotonous nature of the activity began to bite away at her, and soon she began to count. One...two… The rungs gave a sharp squeal as she placed her foot down, and she flinched in response. Testing it awkwardly, she shifted her weight and avoided the too-rusted step. Twenty-and-four… Her arms were beginning to burn, her grip beginning to grow tense. Her fingers were clenched painfully, and she found herself almost prying them off the metal when she had to move.

Her count reached three-hundred, and yet higher still it rose. Don’t look down, she reminded herself, and yet the light from the torch that Willem was carrying tempted her. Shadows danced on the walls, and a faint buzzing filled her ears. It was just imagination, she reminded herself, gritting her teeth as she continued to count. Three-hundred forty-and-seven… Something flickered across her field of vision, like a gnat that landed on her arm. She swatted at herself instinctively, yet when her hand pulled away, there were no smashed remains on her palm. On her wrist, there was only a pale patch of blood—a small wound seemingly gouged out with a needle.

Her heart rate suddenly rose, a wild panic surging up inside of her faster than she could fight it. “H-hurry!” she stammered out to Norus above her, her fear galvanizing new strength into her tired limbs. Four-hundred, she counted in her mind, her jaw tense as she saw more flecks of black flitting around her. They were like hounds, smelling her scent as testing the waters. Yet that torch was enough—it had to be enough. The shadows were still hesitant around the flame, and so they waited.

Five-hundred, and her arms were screaming in pain. Sweat ran down her back, drenching her clothes. Her armor felt like a leaden weight on her body, like a mountain that she was carrying. Again and again, she forced herself to descend. Her boots rang out against the metal, clanging as she struck the next rung. Above her, she could hear the panting and ragged gasps from Norus and Willem. Blood and bones, how much farther? The thought made a weary dizziness strike her, and she finally glanced down with a gasp.

Below her was only a plunging fall, a pitch-black that seemed to stretch on forever. Vertigo seized as she stared, until finally she had to look away with breathless gasps. Damnit, she panted, struggling even to maintain her grip. Damnit, damnit, crow-cursed—

“Keep going.” Norus growled out from above her, his gravelly voice finally startling her into motion. Sweat burned as it dripped into her eye, but she did not have the luxury to even wipe it away. Where was I? Yet her count had been lost, and so she started over once more. One...two… Her limbs were already burning was more, the brief respite insufficient. Above her, the flame from the torchlight continued to dance, the shadows on the side of the tunnel nauseating and disorienting.

Two-hundred seventy-and two… Her foot struck the rung below, but it gave out with a screech of tearing metal. Her heart plummeted instantly, her stomach feeling a jolt of red-hot agony run through it. The loss of support made her swoon, her tired arms howling at her as she struggled not to fall. Slowly, she lowered herself onto the next rung, her heart about to burst in her chest. “There’s a missing rung.” she warned Norus above her as she continued, breathing hard.

Two-hundred ninety-and-one… Her head began to grow dizzy, her arms no longer responding to her commands. Her vision blurred at the edges, and she found herself lolling sideways. One foot slipped on its rung, flying out, and suddenly she found herself falling. The cold air was almost soothing against her skin, black shadows buzzing loudly as they descended greedily upon her. Two-hundred ninety-and-two, she thought dimly before there was a louch crunch. She struck the ground, her metal helmet jarring the back of her skull, and her vision went dark.

Screaming. Someone was screaming her name, but it felt far away—almost like she was underwater. Her eyes blinked open slowly, a throbbing pain running through her head. When she tried to move, her body wailed in fervent protest. Even breathing was taxing, each breath of air seemingly covered in fire as it was forcefully dragged into her chest. Someone was standing over her, his features blurry and obscured by the light of fire. Norus? She could only wonder dimly, slowly opening cracked lips in an effort to speak. No, that’s not him.

Ever slowly, her vision focused and she saw Willem standing over her, the markings on his face half-hidden by shadow. The flame danced around wildly nearby, and she turned painfully to see Norus waving the torch around protectively. Skal’va had gathered in a cloud, buzzing angrily around the three of them, yet they dared not to approach any closer. That fire was the only thing keeping them alive—and she suddenly felt as though the length of wood was far too short.

“Blood and bones, get up Kat!” Willem practically screamed in her ear, and she finally seemed to hear. Her throat worked, but no sound came out of her parched lips, only wind. She struggled to sit up, the movement proving to be too much for her until Willem helped her up. The boy was propped up on his arms, his single knee against a wall. They seemed to be in some room surrounded by metal and steel, the skal’va closing in quickly. While Norus was holding off the swarm for now, more and more poured in from every creeping shadow,

“Fire…” she gasped out, coughing. Blood oozed from gaps in her armor; it seemed that the skal’va had begun to have their way with her when she had first fallen. Her wrists and elbows, where there were gaps in the leather and metal, were sticky with crimson. Yet she hardly noticed that pain amidst all the fear that filled her mind. The buzzing of the skal’va, the throbbing of her own heartbeat, they far drowned out whatever minor protestations of her body. Her gaze turned to Willem, whose face was stark white with fear. She grasped his shoulder with bloody hands, scarlet staining where she had touched him.

“We need more fire.” Kat rasped, her breathing growing ragged from the effort. Already Norus was beginning to tire, his flame beginning to flicker and wane. While the air was filled with the scent of char and smolder, that foreboding buzzing noise only continued to rise in volume. “Please, magic—anything.” she begged, tugging on Willem’s shoulder.

Panic covered the boy’s features, but she knew that there was nothing more she could do now. Tears fell from his eyes in terror and helplessness, but she fell back in a limp motion, all her remaining strength fleeing from her body. It was out of her hands now—her battered body had nothing more to give. Her limbs were unresponsive, like stone weights against her sides. Her chest felt as though it carried the weight of twenty men on top; every breath was a labor. Her vision grew strained and tired, a lightheaded sensation blowing her thoughts aside.

She saw the boy crying out of the corner of her eyes, saw his slumped frame slowly straighten. She watched with a quiet hope as he went still, his breathing slowing in that now familiar trance. Her body went tense as ribbons of purple coiled out of his fingers, crawling along the floor and walls along the metal. Crackling energy and raw power filled the air around her, making her hair stand on end and her breathing grow heavy.

Even Norus sensed the change, throwing a surprised glance backwards before some of the skal’va descended upon his arm. The man was silent as ever while his limb was suddenly swarmed by shadow, holding the torch to his body. The smell of burning hair and flesh filled the air as the skal’va around him crackled and burnt. The flame ate away at his own arm as well, but it was a small price to pay. The single mindedness of the action seemed to give the skal’va momentary pause, and that pause was enough.

Willem was muttering something under his breath, although Kat wondered if he even knew. The words were faint, repeating like a chant over and over. Yet as his eyebrows scrunched and his expression grew tight with concentration, she found his chant growing ever more fervent. His arms clenched, his fingers clutching like claws at the air, and he made a sudden motion like he was strangling an invisible figure. “Burn.” he gasped, his voice choked and rasping from the effort.

Those ribbons of magic had lined the walls and floor of the room, spreading like vines from his fingertips. At his command, they suddenly combusted with a roaring flame, the force of the blast loud enough to make Kat’s ears pop. Norus had just enough time to fall flat to the ground, throwing his hands over his neck as the scorching fire blasted through the air. A brilliant display of red and yellow rippled through the confines of the room, searing the metal and distorting the air as it passed with steam and vapor.

Fire, she thought dimly, foolishly even as it seemed it might kill her. The blinding light and numbing heat drove away all other sensation, until she found herself unresponsive on the ground, awash in the afterglow. The air around her rippled and shimmered from the force of heat, scalding her skin.

It was a single blast, taking the span of only a single breath—even as it sucked her own breath out of her lungs. The fire passed as quickly as it had came, leaving behind lingering embers and tongues that struggled to catch root on any surface it could find. Soldering remains covered Norus’s body on the ground, and he tossed and rolled hurriedly in an effort to extinguish them. The metal walls glowed red from the heat, but aside from the occasional flame that burst out for a short-lived moment, there was no more fire.

The skal’va left behind no remains, but there was a distinctive smell in the air. It was like blood and brimstone, repulsive and familiar yet decidedly inhuman. There was no more buzzing in her ears—although to be fair, she could hardly hear anything. As she struggled to sit up, she found that there were blisters all over her body, steam and smoke curling off her skin. The numerous wounds on her joints from the skal’va had been scalded such, the tender flesh swollen and pink.

Beside her, she saw Willem breathing hard, the purple magic gone from his fingertips. Steam and white smoke billowed from his hands, the smell acrid and stinging. He was hauling in shuddering gasps, struggling to even remain upright as he was. Sweat covered his skin with a sickly sheen, with expression stark white and utterly drained of any blood from the effort. His lower lip quivered for a moment, his gaze growing unfocused, and his throat worked as if he was about to say something.

Yet nothing left those tired lips, and his eyes suddenly rolled up into the back of his head as his figure went limp. She hardly had a moment to react before his weary body keeled over to strike the ground with a crack.