A hill overlooked Arqa #2 from the north. Its top was flat and rounded, like the bottom of a feather, and covered with weathered black rubble. That made it indistinguishable from any other hill in the valley. Ruins covered every inch of this place. Some trace of wall around a bailey still stood; it reminded Jason of the keep in Katharos where the Archon dwelt in silhouette, only a tenth the size and, well, ruined.

Arqa was an ossuary for civilizations. They dumped their ashes here for adventurers like him to sift through for drachmae. Surprisingly enough, he found the lifestyle suited him.

What differentiated this hilltop from all the others, aside from the Old Kingdom aesthetics of its ruins, was the cactus-skeleton fence erected around its perimeter. A recent addition by relative standards, but even that looked ancient. Too tall to climb easily. No entrance. This wasn’t a place anyone was meant to explore.

“What did the ealdorman say?” Astera said. “Ghouls?”

“He used a word that meant ‘undead,’” Jason said.

“Maybe he meant worms,” Aletheia said. “You know. For burrowing.”

“Yeah. He meant worms.” Jason rolled his eyes. “What the hell do worms have to do with the undead?”

“Worms eat the dead.”

“I don’t think that’s why he wanted adventurers to come clear this place out. It’s probably more ghouls. I bet there’s a hole in the fencing somewhere.”

“Why would ghouls come up here?” Aletheia said. “Don’t they eat the dead?”

“They do,” Astera said. “The last we found were at the cemetery.”

“I remember,” Jason said, somewhat annoyed. He didn’t need to be condescended to by this braindead immortal and her sidekick. “What? Do you want me to guess, or should we go through and find out?”

Astera motioned ahead, signaling for the latter. Some good news.

Once upon a time these ruins might have been more distinct from the surroundings, the walls at the edge of a sheer cliff, but the desert had reclaimed much over the centuries. Now it was just a steep jaunt uphill to reach the fence before all rounded out.

It wasn’t easy skirting the perimeter. The terrain was still uneven and cactus-strewn, and even though it was cloudy and now Fall, Darom never ceased to be hideously hot. Jason would have complained if Rook were here, but considering this was his own expedition, he decided to remain stoic.

They skirted the perimeter for a few minutes until Aletheia called out, “Here!”

A gap was dug out in the sand beneath the fencing. Jason, who was not especially large but still a man, and Astera, who was enormous, didn’t fit through, but Aletheia did easily. She slipped beneath and soon stood on the other side. She scouted about the premises, ducking behind the rubble and strands of ruined walls, but found nothing and returned.

“We can dig out the hole, to make it big enough for you,” she said.

“Great idea,” Jason said. She dropped to her knees and started to shovel. “I was joking. Let’s just tear the fence down. It’s anchored into dry dirt.”

“They put it up for a reason,” Astera said. “They won’t be happy to see it damaged.”

“They know something is living on the other side, I really doubt they care.”

“They’re undead,” Aletheia said.

“What?”

“Something isn’t living on the other side,” she said, somewhat indignant.

Jason always hated kids, but this kid was even worse than the nose-picking usual. It didn’t help that she was a girl, ten years younger than him, and still better in a fight. He fidgeted for a few seconds before snapping back, “My point is that they sent us here. So let’s focus on the job, less on the collateral.”

He went to grab hold of the bleached saguaro spines, but just in time he noticed they were still lined with microscopic thorns. He gripped a point higher up, at the fence’s top, and pulled; whatever clay bound the panels together refused to give.

Another try. Another defeat. He pricked his thumb and swore.

The embarrassment wasn’t worth it. He lowered himself to his knees and helped Aletheia dig.

The human among them were both heatstruck by the time a hole wide enough for Astera was cleared. They took shade beneath a section of the wall, a few foot long section of rampart. The sun blasted its one side relentlessly and had for who knew how many centuries; the black stone seemed scorched from that oppressive, never-moving gaze. Where there was darkness, the desert earned a chance at rest. Even the dirt underfoot seemed grateful for that opportunity.

He and Aletheia sat side-by-side and drank from their waterskins, still alert, resting. They shared a glance when they both felt something strange on the ground. Something soft. Mushy. Even wet.

Grass.

Green grass, growing in the shade, except not green like real grass—noxious, ugly, and glowing.

Aletheia touched it. “It’s magic.”

“No shit?” Jason said.

“I’m just saying. Astera!” The elf came sprinting around a toppled wall. “Do you know what this is?”

She glanced over, knelt down, and took a handful of blades. “In Seneria we call it perkwunaz. Foliage that feeds on mana.” She ground them together between her fingers. “But I’ve never seen it this shade.”

“I don’t feel any mana here. Any more than usual,” Aletheia said.

“Me neither,” Astera said.

“Well. Nice that the ghouls haven’t trampled it,” Jason said.

They all glanced around.

“Do you think that’s what attracted the ghouls? If they are ghouls?” Aletheia said.

“I don’t know,” Astera said. “These are ruins from the Old Kingdom, from the days when Darom was part of our empire. They may have left some source of corrupting magic here, that attracts the undead.”

“Is that a thing?” Jason said.

She shrugged.

“So where are the ghouls?” Aletheia said.

“Let’s keep looking,” Astera said.

So look they did. They scoured the hilltop, overturning stones, looking for any sign of the undead. At some point Astera found footprints in the sand; they followed them together, weaving through the stones of the old keep, all the way up to a tower. No other part of what once was built here still stood so stalwartly and intact. It would’ve once led up three or four storeys along the spine of the whole building, overlooking the Arqas off the hill below, but everything past the third storey had crumbled away—the rest remained, mostly, from the outside. Stepping inside, the staircase up was ruined, collapsed; a heavy trap door blocked access to whatever was beneath.

The trap door would be unnecessary, because at the tower’s base was a sheer hole into darkness. A chasm before the masonry. That was where the footprints led.

“You know,” Jason said, “I’m fucking sick of going underground.”

“At least we’ll get out of the sun,” Aletheia said.

“Good point.”

They both looked to Astera.

Astera drew her sword and jumped.

Her magical elflights were almost in the air when Jason heard the screams. Not Astera’s voice, but a man’s—a human’s. In Daromese they shouted, “Get out! Get out, get out, get out!”

Aletheia wasted no time following down then.

Jason did. He wasted as much time as he could. He drew his dagger, hesitating, and only after he heard his two companions conversing again did he find the courage to pursue.

They were in a dungeon. A literal dungeon. Save the crack in the ceiling, their point of entrance where dirt poured down and dust hung in the air, the walls, ceiling, and floor were all hard stone. A few feet ahead of where he now stood, Astera scuffled with an old human man. He was tanned, withered, and skeletonized, but probably alive. A ring with a saguaro’s flower as its signet clung to his finger.

“I said leave!” he said again. Now Astera had him pinned by the arms. With Aletheia’s help she put her sword to his neck. In protest the man hit his head against the dungeon’s floor, hard. “Get out I said! You weren’t invited!”

Jason translated. It was then he noticed the scent of this place. Horrible, rot and septic together.

“He hid in a cell, jumped out at me as I fell. Ask him what he’s doing here,” Astera said.

“What are you doing here?” Jason asked in Daromese.

“This is my home! Leave, leave, leave, before they get you! They’ll eat you up!” he was raving now, “we don’t like meals in our house, not when they’re alive, but if you don’t let your hands off me you won’t ever—”

Astera slapped him.

“He’s insane,” Jason said. “Sounds like he’s friends with whatever else is down here.”

“Where are they?” Astera said. Jason translated, but the man shook his head and went back to raving.

“What do we do with him?” Aletheia said. “We can’t just kill him, right?”

“He attacked me,” Astera said.

“To be fair, he probably doesn’t get many visitors,” Jason said.

“Whatever else dwells down here, his mind is too far gone,” she said. She lowered her blade to his heart.

Life on the road without Rook’s moderating impulse, Jason figured. He didn’t exactly approve, but he didn’t care enough to say anything, either.

“Evil woman, go! Get out I said! We’ll make you go!”

Jason almost translated, but he figured the man’s cackling gave his thinking away.

“If we let you go, will you come back?” Jason asked him.

“Oh, sure, I’ll come back, and I’ll kill you, too! Feed you to ‘em!”

Astera slapped him again. He kicked against her—she was very heavy—then spat in her face. And with that, she pushed her Dwarven sword into his heart.

Aletheia gasped and looked away. It was all over in seconds.

“That solves that problem,” Jason said. “Think they mistook him for a zombie?”

“We could’ve let him go,” Aletheia said.

Astera stood, wiping the blood from her blade. “When an animal is rabid, it must be put down.”

“He isn’t an animal.”

“We’re here to help the people of Arqa, Aletheia. He was old and near the end of his life. Would you want to live your last days with an addled mind?”

“I’d prefer if you asked me first, personally,” Jason said. He stepped over the body and peered down another hallway. Rows of cells, small, still preserved, lined the walls.

“Everyone is near the end of life compared to you,” Aletheia said. She pushed past the elf and continued after Jason.

“You know,” he said. “The ghouls we’ve seen so far don’t have a tendency to hide.”

“Something must be drawing them farther into the ruins of this place,” Astera said. “Let’s clear them and be done.”

Astera hesitated before going, however. She turned back toward the old man—and took the signet ring from his finger. It looked moderately valuable, well-made. She slid it into her pocket.

Not a bad take, to go with their bounty. Jason let her take the lead.

The cells quickly ceased. They descended a staircase, then followed another corridor, dark and narrow, until it came to a wrought iron door. The hinges creaked as Astera pulled it ajar. On the other side was revealed a broad room with a domed ceiling.

The smell got worse.

In here, against the far wall, stood four cadaverous abominations. Three men and a woman: once human, their nails extended into claws, their skin turned green, their eyes fell from their sockets, their bare bones showed through flaked-off skin. They leaned against the wall like lizards basking in the sun, and only one, the woman, turned at their entrance. She hissed with a long, forked tongue.

Human remains were strewn about the room. Arms and legs gnawed to the bone. Blood streaked everywhere.

Jason raised his dagger, stumbling backward. Shambling horrors—those he was prepared to face down. These were far worse.

Astera was not deterred. She stepped forward.

Her intrusion pulled the rest of the abominations’ attentions. They hissed, too, each mutated in a different way—and each suffused with glowing putrescent green buboes.

Astera’s dance was familiar to Jason by now. These abominations weren’t fast; she danced about them with her sword, rending arms and legs, severing a head, slicing through extended tongues. Aletheia shot off two arrows; both hit, one landing in an abomination’s head, but it was hardly deterred.

After two minutes of exhausting melee a disarmed cadaver stumbled toward Jason like a chicken, lashing out at him with its stubbed shoulders; he stabbed it again and again with his dagger, but it made no difference. Its inhuman fangs came down around his neck, chomping like a rabid dog, catching his skin and drawing blood. He was forced to disengage. He jumped back toward Aletheia and stumbled with her down the hallway.

Another spin of Astera’s blade. The abomination’s legs came off. A second, the abomination was cut in half. Black, rotted intestines spilled onto the ground. Usually the power binding the undead faded after significant damage, at least that was Jason’s experience, but even now as the battle ended, as nothing but the butchered cadavers of the abominations lingered on the floor, he heard the wet slapping of animated muscles—severed from any part of the whole—against the bloodied ground. Like fish out of water.

Jason threw up. It wasn’t the sight, but the smell. They lingered, listening, for a long time. Gagging.

“What do we do?” Aletheia said. Her breath fast. She was terrified.

Astera shepherded them back to the hall. “Wait for their animating bindings to decay. If they do.”

They went outside. Cleaned themselves. Calmed down. Jason wrapped the wound on his neck; Astera tended it, to ensure it didn’t fall infected. Only then did they return, hours later.

All was quiet in the room with the domed roof. The dead rested once more.

“There,” Jason said. “Like I promised. Easy job. Let’s get out of here.”

“We aren’t done,” Astera said. “The source of corruption remains.”

“So?”

“So we haven’t accomplished our task until it’s gone.”

“Our task was to kill zombies, not excise an ancient dungeon.”

“Maybe we could come back later,” Aletheia said. “With Rook?”

“Who knows what evil might befall this place if we let it linger? And to collect that reward now would be to deceive the villagers,” Astera said.

“It isn’t deceiving anyone, it’s fulfilling our side of the bargain. But fine, you want to look around, be my guest,” Jason said.

“The abominations were drawn to this wall,” she said. Thusly she proceeded. There she scouted it, up and down. “Look: the dome on the roof. It ends prematurely. And the bricks here are small, and paler against the light—this is not true Old Kingdom masonry. This wall is false.”

“Looks true to me,” Jason said.

“Help me,” she commanded to Aletheia. Aletheia obeyed, cautiously.

Together they counted down from three: on one, both let out a burst of energy directed against the masonry, a blast of wind. The false wall withstood the blow—but not on the second attempt. When they repeated themselves, the wall crumbled from the bottom down and up. Bricks rained down onto them; Astera grabbed Aletheia and pulled her out of the way just in time.

An engine room was on the other side.

The room with the domed ceiling extended much farther than the small site of their battle. Built into the walls, a hundred feet down into darkness, were large furnaces of black stone. Six of them, three on each side. Instead of smokestacks their tops had no egress except blue lines painted on the walls, all of which merged together, leading down to the end of the room.

Aletheia looked at one of the furnaces.

“Manastone generators,” she said. “We had these in Chionos. If we couldn’t pull enough mana from the air to fuel our heaters, or the aether in the tower…” she seemed to hesitate once she realized she was the one leading the discussion, “…we could feed Manastone into the generators to power our machines.”

“What are they doing down here?” Astera said.

“Why build a wall between this place and the other?” Jason said.

“Astera,” Aletheia said. “We should go back. I don’t…we should come back later, with Rook.”

Astera stopped and put a reassuring hand on Aletheia’s shoulder, then gave a hug. “We’ll be okay. We need to make sure this place is safe before we leave.”

“I think the kid has the right idea, Astera,” Jason said. “What’s this shit for? What if there’s a demon or something lurking down here, attracting those cadavers, mutating them like that?”

“I don’t sense mana in the air here,” Astera said. “I am from Seneria, Jason. I know demons well. Their Essences would not evade my notice. We have nothing such to fear.”

That line of thinking seemed moderately plausible to him, at least. He would have run then, truth be told, if it wasn’t for thinking they might have stumbled onto some ancient vault stacked with gold. That gave him the courage to keep going.

They followed the rows of Manastone generators, walking between the blue lines on the walls. Presently they came to their point of convergence: a black steel door. A vault’s door, like the Grand Bank of Katharos, huge, the whole of the wall. To its right were the magical mechanisms for its operation, clearly, the powered lines which would turn servos and twist the door open. To its left were…something else. Something very different. Three emitters, dark now, up and down the side of the vault’s door. Jason had never seen anything like them.

But he knew a treasury when he saw one. He smiled.

“I take it back. You were right. Let’s get this thing open.”

Astera nodded. “I should be able to power the mechanisms, although we lack the key.”

“I don’t see a keyhole.”

“It likely needs a keystone. There is no way to know for certain without a spell of divination.”

“Astera,” Aletheia said. She stood some way back. “I don’t think this is a good idea. We should wait until Rook is here.”

“What do you think we’re going to find in an ancient vault? Spiders?” Jason said.

“The ghouls—the zombies, and the plants—something is inside. We shouldn’t open it. Not right now.”

“Likely a cursed artifact,” Astera said. “Whatever it is, we have nothing to fear of it so long as I handle it. Then it may be disposed of appropriately.”

“Let me guess: elves can’t be cursed?”

“Only our Essence, not our flesh—and we cannot be made undead. We turn to ash if we are killed.”

“Neat trick.” He looked it over. “You think you can open it, right?”

Astera nodded. “Only for a brief time. I’ll breathe my Essence into each of the generators on the right wall; when they come online, try to find some way to open the door. It may not last long.”

“Got it.”

“What about the others?” Aletheia said. There was immense trepidation on her voice.

“I don’t know their purpose,” Astera said. “Perhaps some sort of magical seal. We likely do not need them.”

The elf did as she promised. Down the line, all three in a row, she conjured mana into her hand and placed it into each generator. With that simple action the blue wiring on the wall came alive.

Jason set about searching for a doorknob. There wasn’t one. Neither was there a radial to spin or some place to enter a combination, as there sometimes was on Old Kingdom locks. All he found, near the vault door’s center, was a small mirror. Its sheen perfectly reflective.

One by one the wires turned on, until all three glowed dim blue. Astera jogged back.

Jason stared into his own reflection.

“I don’t get it,” he said. “It must need a key. Like you said.”

“Let me see,” Astera said.

“Please,” Aletheia practically begged now, “let’s come back later.”

“Only another moment and we can leave.” The elf took a step in front of the mirror. She gazed into her own white eyes.

Locks in all three of the hinge mechanisms came undone with a barrage of clanking that echoed throughout the high-ceilinged room. They all jumped in surprise.

“What was that? Why did it work for you?” Jason said.

“I don’t know,” Astera said.

She tugged on the door. It still wouldn’t open.

“Okay,” he said. “Halfway there.”

A moment of thought. Astera reached into her pocket and retrieved the signet ring, taken from the old man. She held it up before the mirror. When nothing happened, she slipped it onto her ring finger, and showed that instead.

The joints of the door creaked. A sound of groaning metal. The vault opened.

Jason laughed. “Good work. Let’s rob this place and get out of here.”

“That is not exactly what I had in mind,” Astera said, “but any treasure should be claimed as our own.”

Aletheia tugged on Astera’s arm one final time. “Let’s go!”

This time she was ignored entirely. Jason and Astera both stepped forward in search of riches. Jason did, anyway.

Except there were no riches in the vault. There was no treasure within the vault, period. There were no shelves. There was no writing. There was nothing at all except rounded steel walls that formed a bubble of metal, an impenetrable bunker.

And a slab of marble directly in the room’s center.

A man rested atop it. He wore no clothes. His skin was tanned, but seemed naturally fair. His hair, brown. He was well-muscled. Tall. Broad-shouldered. No older than thirty.

By the time they saw him, by the time they realized, it was too late. Jason and Astera were already beside him, looking down, when his eyes opened.

His pupils glowed putrescent green.

Astera moved with the speed of an elf. She raised her sword and prepared to bring it down on the man’s head—

But he moved so much faster. Faster than Jason could even see. Faster than a blink. His face contorted, at first in a snarl, then into something hideous, supernatural, animalistic. He let out a bass roar as he caught her sword arm’s wrist, overpowering her strength effortlessly, pushing her away.

His head extended toward hers.

The snarl vanished. Their eyes met. He whispered, “Daphana?” The gaze between them held a long moment. She tugged herself away, but his grip was an iron vice. Then he looked to Jason. He continued, of all languages, in Kathar: “You brought me a gift.”

Then the beast returned. He lunged past Astera, toward Jason, but this time it was she who caught him. Her sword thrust through his torso as he bounded past her, moving like a tiger, and with her spare hand she conjured a fireball which she smashed against his head.

He stumbled over himself and fell to the ground, roaring and snarling in pain. Jason sprinted toward the exit, no thought on his mind except flight. Aletheia followed after him, and soon Astera, all running together through the Manastone generator room, back into the site of their battle—

When Jason dared to glance over his shoulder, he saw the man behind him. The wound on his torso knitted itself closed in real time, like Astera healing herself, and her magic left no mark whatsoever on his skin. His figure flickered between shadow and flesh, like he was two beings in one form, a human and a monster, a demon and a man, a beast and a person all simultaneously.

Keep running. Keep sprinting. The frenzied pace of the man’s bare feet echoing against hard stone floor grew louder behind them. They reached the iron gate back into the corridor—

And it slammed shut, pulled by invisible string. Jason reached it with Aletheia and turned, and behind him he saw the man, now overcome with frenzy, all his features, his movements, his noises twisted into those of a rabid animal, his hand outstretched as if casting a spell—

And then he was upon them. Jason held Aletheia instinctively against the gate. They tugged at it, but it was sealed completely shut, utterly immovable. Neither drew their weapons. Astera went for the man again with her sword; he let her land the blow, a chop down onto his shoulder, and as she tried to retrieve the blade he pushed her back against the wall. Her sword clattered to the ground.

He pinned her there. She was taller than him, but he was far stronger.

Jason cowered. So did Aletheia.

“Why, Daphana?” he whispered. He brushed a stray strand of hair from her eyes. “Why release me to attack me?”

“My name is Astera,” she said.

“I loved you…so long I’ve had to think about your betrayal, waiting if you’d come back…”

Jason realized. “She is Daphana! We came to let you go! Now let us go, and—we can all go, go home!”

The beast’s visage waned. The strength he used to keep Astera in place faltered. He lowered his head toward hers, as if for a kiss—

“I know you not, demon,” Astera sneered, pulling her head away. “You have me mistaken.”

Jason’s heart sank. Of all the stupid things to say, to do—this elf was a complete fucking imbecile!

He saw the confusion on the man’s face. A look of pensiveness—and then another roar. He let Astera go, his attention turned toward Jason. He grabbed Jason’s neck, lowered his nose to his shirt, and smelled.

The man bore fangs. Jason kicked and fought to pull away, but he could do nothing—but just as the fangs made contact with his neck, his neck already bleeding from the earlier battle, the man stopped. He tossed Jason away; Jason practically flew across the room, to the nearby wall, colliding with it. The wind was knocked from his lungs.

The man’s attention turned toward Aletheia. Aletheia’s eyes were wide. She stared in disbelief, still trying to tug the sealed gate open.

“You brought me a virgin…” he whispered.

“Get away from her,” Astera said. She interposed herself.

“You starved me. I’m so weak. It’s been so long. The soul of a virgin would do me well.”

“You can’t have her.”

“Just a taste, to clear my mind...”

“No!” Aletheia said.

“Tell him you’re Daphana!” Jason said. He climbed to his feet. “Tell him the truth, that you’re Daphana, and that he can’t have her! Tell him to let us go!”

It took a moment for the words to register, but finally Astera said, “Yes! It’s me! I came to let you out! Now let’s all go!”

That drew his attention back toward Astera. “Daphana…” A moment. “It is you, isn’t it? It truly is?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

“You miserable, treacherous, evil, elven bitch!”

He roared and lunged for her. His fingers turned to claws in a flash, and he raked them down the side of her face. He pinned her again against the wall, punched her—she fought back, to almost no effect—but then he kissed her deeply. She struggled against him. With another fire spell she managed to slip away, roll toward her sword, and grab it again; she lunged toward him, then jumped upward—

She sliced cleanly through his neck.

For a moment, a line appeared as if his head were severed. But his face never ceased its contortions, although he hardly reacted to the blow—and in mere seconds that line disappeared, as if nothing at all had happened.

She stabbed him through the stomach. He kneed her, then tossed her body to the side. He pulled the sword from himself. Once in his hands, he looked it over: he closed his eyes. The lids flashed green, and when they opened again, the sword disintegrated into black rust in his hands, crumbling down into a pile of ash at his feet.

He regarded her again, this time kneeling down to her level.

“I never stopped loving you. Even as you jailed me. And I would do anything to have you rule at my side again.”

“Okay!” she said. “I will! But you must let us go! My companions and I—you must let us go!”

He cocked his head toward Aletheia, frowning. “Even the girl?”

“Yes, even her.”

He growled.

“We’ll bring you more virgins!” Jason said. “From the village!”

“Yes!” Astera said.

“As many as you like!”

He considered this like a dog considering a command he doesn’t understand. “Yes…”

“Yes!” Jason said.

He nodded, somewhat dazed. “Yes.” But then…he snapped again at Astera. “Lying wellfiend! You betrayed me once! You think I can trust you?”

He grabbed Astera and pulled her back up to her feet. Now he raved. For the first time his voice exceeded that of a whisper, and he spoke quickly, like a volley of arrows incoming:

“Make you decision Daphana! Your life for treason against your husband and your lord or the life of the girl! You always loved the people more than me, didn’t you? You always loved humans the best, not your Artoros, not even after all he gave for you! That’s why you betrayed him, isn’t it? Ungrateful whore!”

Astera shook her head. Aletheia burst into tears. She did nothing to resist.

“Don’t lie! You remember! I remember! You want to rule at my side again? Prove it! The girl for me, first! Show me you’ve changed! Show me that you’ve come to your senses!”

Even Astera had a look of terror now. Unthinking and animal. “Don’t make me,” she gasped. Voice very low.

“What’s one mortal life compared to ours, my love?” the man growled. “It’s been so long. Can’t you show your devotion to me? A single gift?” His hands traced her neck. “An elf’s Essence is itself a delightful gift…almost as delicious as a virgin’s soul, so sweet and honeyed, just like your mother…it would be a fitting punishment for what you did to me…”

Astera looked at Aletheia one last time.

“Don’t!” Aletheia sobbed.

Astera closed her eyes. She looked away.

“Is it not an easy choice?” he finished.

A long pause. Then Astera nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.

“What?” Jason whispered.

“No!” Aletheia said again.

“Her life for mine,” Astera said. She couldn’t watch.

“No! Please don’t! Astera, please! Help me! Jason, help! Let me go!”

The man smiled. He turned to Aletheia. She shrunk away, helpless. Jason watched on in horror. He couldn’t believe what was happening—but he shrunk away, too, far away from this man, from whatever kind of monstrosity he was.

Aletheia cried uncontrolled, histrionic. Astera did nothing. She didn’t look.

“I don’t want to die,” Aletheia said quietly, one last time. Then she descended into sobbing. Verbal pleas defeated. The man shushed her. He knelt down to her height, put his fangs to her neck, and bit.

Jason couldn’t watch. He closed his eyes and looked away. The screaming was too horrible to endure. He did everything he could do ignore it, but it lasted so, so long.

So long that he was almost grateful, it was almost a relief, when the noise ended and a body hit the floor.