Emily followed the squirrel deeper into the dungeon, through turning and twisting pathways that often seemed to double back on themselves. If not for the rodent, she would have been horribly lost. Though, she did notice the tunnels were no longer slanting downwards, rather it seemed they stayed on the same level the whole way. Perhaps this was the bottom floor, or perhaps, they were just walking in circles.

Twice more they came across giant spiders, and twice more Emily dispatched them without much worry. They were not challenging opponents, and they only became easier to defeat when she figured out that their blind spot was right down the middle of their wide heads, where there was a gap in their many stationary eyes.

She stretched and yawned as she stepped around the corpse of the last spider, her chain mail rustling as it was pulled over her belt. She hadn’t gotten enough sleep since before the campaign had reached the mountain of the gods a good two months past. And the short catnap she had taken after being whisked through a rift had not been enough after her battles with half of the old gods.

“How far are we from your master?” she asked the squirrel.

It stood on its hind legs and held its front paws less than an inch apart.

“Not far?”

The squirrel nodded.

“Let’s hurry then, before I run dry of magic.”

The squirrel chirped in agreement, and hurried down the tunnel, ignoring the many others that branched off. Emily couldn’t help but peer into the darkness whenever another tunnel crossed their path. She couldn’t see very far, for she had lowered the strength of her light until it barely lit the ground before her.

How big is this place? She mused and slowed down for a moment as a breath of stale air blew out of a passing tunnel. It seems to go on forever. There were other thoughts stringing through her mind, like who built it, and why? But she pushed them aside. They could wait until a more suitable time. Besides, Alex had always been the researcher of the two. But perhaps he had rubbed off on her? Not impossible, with how much time they had spent together. She smiled to herself as she remembered warm summer nights spent in his room at the top of the mages tower, before their world had turned on its head. Lost in thought she almost missed the first step of a staircase, and only the sudden chirp of the squirrel stopped her from falling down headfirst.

“Thank you,” she said and looked down the stairs. The darkness below was thick, like a pool of ink; not even her light seemed able to penetrate its surface. “Do we need to go down here?”

The squirrel nodded, but seemed hesitant to take the first step down. Its fur stood on edge and its tall pointy ears stood straight as it looked around, sniffing the air. Then it looked up at Emily with a concerned look clothing its features.

“Should I go first?”

The squirrel nodded again. Emily wondered if the squirrel ever got tired of nodding. Then she shook herself loose and took the first step down. She stopped on the step for a moment; waiting; listening, but nothing happened. No traps activated, no sudden sounds or breaths of air indicated she had attracted any more spiders. Shrugging, she continued down the stairs, the squirrel tight on her heel for once.

The darkness seemed reluctant to give way to her light, but divine magic is nothing if not persistent, and not even the thickest of shadows could hold on forever in its presence. At the bottom, Emily found herself at the end of a short corridor, not more than thirty feet long, with a large and open arched doorway at the other end. She studied the walls for a moment, but they were as solid as ever, if a little filthier than those above. The air was stagnant; filled with a repugnant smell of scat and rotting meat. Whatever lived down there had not done its spring cleaning.

Emily made her way to the doorway with hasty steps, she did not want to stay longer than absolutely necessary. Pressing herself against the wall outside, she gathered her light into her hands and threw it into the darkness beyond. She peeked in as it lit the space, revealing a chamber much larger than the previous ones. Its layout was much the same, but for a multitude of alcoves along the walls, and a large one brimming with darkness at the other end. She thought she heard hushed whispers in the semi-dark but couldn’t be sure. Then without warning, the squirrel—suddenly seeming fearless—scampered past, and made its way to one of the alcoves along the wall, where it slipped between the bars that marked it a cell.

“Roco!” a girl exclaimed from within the alcove, before being hushed. In softer tones, she continued, “You’re back. Did you find help? Is that who made the light? It’s so pretty—I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Emily shook her head as she stepped into the chamber, she didn’t need to hear more to understand why these people needed help.

“Wait, stop!” another voice cried, “Don’t come in here!”

It came to late, for Emily had already stepped through the large doorway, not that she had any intention of following such orders either way. “Why not?” she asked the people in the cell. But they did not need to answer, for the next moment a heavy metal grate smalled down behind her, locking her inside the chamber. Emily looked over her shoulder and let her eyes wander the grate and door frame; they seemed solid enough. “Ah,” she said, it seemed she had finally walked into a trap. “That’s why.” Then she shrugged and continued further into the chamber, walking casually towards the alcove. She let her light float higher, and gave it a little boost of strength, as much as she dared.

“Over here,” yet another voice said from the alcove. “Come quickly if you want to live!”

Emily could now make out four people withing the alcove, three behind bars and one holding open a heavy door. Their faces were pale in the light from her divine magic, but they all seemed human enough at first glance. The boys were quite ordinary, the kind you could find in any town or village across Mónvell. Dressed in tunics and armor of leather and metal, all seeming quite bare-bones, and perhaps a little cheap. The brown haired one held the door with his left, and in the other a spear, not the weapon Emily would have brought into a dungeon of tight corners and low ceilings, but each to their own, she supposed. The other, a shorter blond boy, had two daggers at his waist, a much more sensible option, seeing the circumstances.

But where the boys left little to be exited about, the two girls were a completely different story. They captured Emily’s attention in a way not many could, for adorning their heads were two pairs of cat ears, covered in black fur that matched their hair. She had never seen anything like it. Where they real, or some kind of an illusion? In her slightly groggy state that question seemed to burrow into her mind like a mole through dirt, attaching itself to her consciousness. And as if to make matters worse, below the cat ears were two pairs of slitted yellow eyes, glowing faintly as they caught her light, just like those of a cat. Neither did it help that the girls seemed to be twins, or that they had decided to dress identically.

Two short braids reaching their chins framed round faces dominated by the yellow eyes, whatever hair had not gone to the braids hung free behind their heads in long tresses. They were both dressed in dark-green tunics, both with a soft brown leather chest-piece strapped around their chests, and armguards of the same material, leaving their midriff and much of their upper arms undefended. Below their tunics, short leather shorts left much of their upper thighs and knees bare, as their boots only reached halfway up their shins.

They were utterly identical but for their weapons. For one held a composite short bow with a cut string, and the other had a staff on her back, and the squirrel—Emily realized—on her shoulder. That’s the master then, she thought, doesn’t cats hunt squirrels?

Then a roar came from deeper into the chamber, where her light did not reach. A roar that shook the ceiling and caused the boy holding the door to glance towards it. It also broke Emily out of her trance, and she blinked as she tried to make out something—anything, in the semi-darkness

“Hurry!” the boy shouted, the panic in his voice palpable. “If the Guardian gets you you’re as good as dead.”

Emily did not heed his call, instead she focused on the enormous shape moving within the darkness. “Is this Guardian the reason you need help?” she asked calmly.

“What? Of course it is, what else could it be?”

“Sorry,” Emily said, decreasing the strength of her light. “I just arrived. Haven’t had time to read up on things yet.”

There was another roar and the boy slammed the cell door shut. “Just come in here, you can’t defeat it on your own!”

Emily looked towards the boy, and smiled. “I’m not much for cells, you know.”

Then the Guardian stepped out into the light. Emily tilted her head as she tried to make sense of the creature. It looked like a scorpion… more or less. It had six segmented legs on either side of a long flat body covered in glistening carapace. But it’s pincers were much too long and thin, and it had not one stinger extending from its back, but two, moving back and fourth in time with its steps. And it was huge, at least six feet tall at its back, and its pincers hung a good twenty feet in the air.

The boy slammed the cell-door shut, and Emily heard it lock from the inside. “It’s your funeral.”

Emily gave them another smile. “Don’t worry,” she said in a voice that did not betray a bit of fear. “I’ll get you out of here alive.”

The Guardian rushed forward, its eight legs clacking in unison with its massive pincers, and its two stingers raised and ready to fall. Emily bent her knees as she waited for the Guardian to reach her, closing her ears to the screams of terror from the cell. She wanted to the test the creature, and frankly, she was too tired to be running around. At the last moment she leapt backwards, avoiding a swipe from the creature’s giant pincers, then to the side to avoid the stinger that crashed to the ground where she had stood. Spinning into a pirouette she brought the sword against the stinger, aiming to sever it from the tail. But as the sword made contact with the Guardian’s carapace, she felt the already weakened metal give way, it was too late to stop the swing, and the sword shattered in her hands.

She leapt away with an oath that would have made a sailor proud, and her father furious. “A weapon, quick!” she shouted to the party in the cell.

“None of us have a sword!” One of the boys shouted back.

“Did I ask for a sword? Throw me a weapon or we are all dead.”

“But—,” one of the boys said, then he growled to himself, and lifted his spear—a partisan with a short sword as spearhead, taking up a good quarter of the spear’s length—and pulled his arm back. With a shout that sounded more like an injured mouse than a warrior’s roar, he threw the spear towards Emily.

He’s not very good at throwing, Emily mused as she tracked the weapon’s trajectory, it was much too high and quite a bit askew. Rushing forward and taking the Guardian by surprise, she leapt up on one of its pincers and then further onto its back, the carapace was slick under her feet as and she almost slipped; her reactions were slower than usual. But before the Guardian could react to the human on its back, she leapt again, arching her back as she sailed through the air—away from the Guardian, catching the spear before completing a backwards somersault, still facing the Guardian as she landed before it.

The spear was light—considering its size, and that lack of weight betrayed its lack of quality. From the feel in her hand she guessed the shaft was made of pine—or at least a wood similar to pine—either way, it was too soft for a proper spear. She dared not guess at the metal contents of the spearhead, or she might have given up there and then. She was sure it was not strong enough to cut through the Guardian’s carapace as it was, which meant she had no choice—she had to use magic.

Leaping backwards to give herself some distance from the momentarily disoriented beast, she pulled her gloves off whilst juggling the spear. She’d need skin to weapon contact, or her armor would suck up some of the magic. Normally, that wouldn’t have been a problem, but with how little magic she had left, she needed every little bit to go into the spear. Then she threw the spear into the air and deftly pulled the chain mail over her head. Throwing it to the floor and catching the spear she leapt to the side, avoiding an attack from the Guardian that struck the chain mail, pinning it to the floor and shattering many of the links. She spared it a momentary thought, for it had saved her from many a charge, but metal attracted magic, and the chain mail—unsurprisingly—had a lot of it. Spinning to avoid another attack she rushed behind the sluggish beast.

Within the moment of calm as the Guardian struggled to spin to follow her, she gripped the spear’s shaft with both her hands and dove into her source. She almost gasped when she found that the ordinarily raging sea of magic had become little more than a calm pond. She frankly did not know what would happen when she ran out, she just hoped it wasn’t anything serious. Then she dove in, and let the magic flow.

Her eyes shone an emerald green as she used the last of her magic to strengthen herself and her weapon, the energies burning like fire as it flowed through her veins. The spear—strained to the point of breaking—vibrated in her hand as magic flowed through it, and the spearhead glowed green, matching her eyes and leaving a glowing trail in the air as it moved. The Guardian, having finally turned to face her, seemed to take a greater interest in her when the magic started flowing, and with a chittering roar it attacked.

She spun the spear and moved. Flowing like water she avoided the Guardians strikes with deadly precision, a single misstep would mean death, but she did not make mistakes. The Guardian’s right stinger crashed to the ground beside her and she spun faster than the eye could see, the green trail betrayed her movements, but it did not help the Guardian, for the stinger had already been severed.

It seemed to take a moment for the pain to register. Then with a roar that shook the ceiling and caused gravel to rain down it attacked with its remaining stinger. Again, Emily flowed around the attack like water around a rock, avoiding the stinger as it stabbed the ground around her, cracking the stone floor. The Guardian swung a massive claw towards her, and she jumped, using the spears shaft as a pole to hive herself more height. In the air she swung the spear around, and as she came down, she drove it into one of the creature’s large beady eyes. Emily felt the spear crack as it penetrated through the hard flesh behind the eye, and into the creature’s brain. With a last push of effort she drove the spear the last bit in, and let it go, before falling back to the ground and landing upon her feet.

As her magic vanished from the spear, the weakened wood shattered spectacularly, throwing shards of wood several feet away. Emily stood before the guardian, between its pincers, unarmed and out of magic. It would have been harrowing, had she not been certain of her abilities. And she was right to be, for the Guardian was already dead. The magically enhanced spearhead had fried its brain from within, and the creature crashed to the ground as its body stopped to function, throwing a cloud of dust into the air.

Emily dusted of her hands. “You weren’t so dangerous after all,” she said to the corpse. Then her light sputtered and went out, plunging them into darkness. One of the twins shrieked.