I flew after Milith as we raced into the passage way, flitting around the mana waves to avoid the magical traps and sensors. We have been trying to find this place to recover the foul desecrations the mortals have taken to hiding in here, but our time is growing short, seeing as how this section seems to be full of iron ores... well it isn't as if I don't know why the mortals left the iron here, seeing as both I and Milith are having to dodge rotting and skeletal abominations. Iron corrupts ambient mana, keeping it from being able to gather and grow stale, then allowing it to prevent creatures dependant on ambient mana from even touching it, such as the undead... or me and Milith.

When surrounded by it, it functions in a similar manner to toxin, slowly eating away at our mana, which sustains us. Already we have been forced into physical forms, so we can sustain ourselves off the creatures natural mana, but little else. I have taken the form of a moth, Milith has taken the form of a rat... Not alot of options down here. As this is a form of possession, the bodies are slowly morphing to match our souls, but that is relatively minor, especially compared to this meaning that both of us could be crushed underfoot and left to fade away.

Originally we were supposed to head in, and leave quickly, a quick measure of gold or gems from the dragons for the return of a dead ones remains, and that's it. But this place is a maze so vast I would dare to say it rivals the lands of purgatory in sheer annoyance. We managed to find a desecration, but now we can't find our way out!

I get images from Milith, the closest thing mortals would consider language for us, able to have full conversations just by sharing images, feelings, and impressions, leaving little to no room for lies. From what I can tell, she is growing rampant, tearing at their head whenever we come to a cross roads. Honestly I am getting very nervous about being around them, as the messages begin to get more aggravated, and quite frankly non-sensical.

"Milith calm down, we will make it out", I send the appropriate images and emotions, seeking to help them calm down.

"Hyronae, shut up!", came the curt reply.

Between us we held the desecration, the black and gold metal making no sound as the articulations scraped the ground over it's long length. As far as mortal equipment goes, this was rather odd, sinxe it was too thin and long to be used as greaves, or bracers, and one end possessed a dagger length blade. I could feel the mark of this organization, a sense of wrongness about this thing, the item itself seeming to reject the mana around it. My hands were freezing just touching it.

Suddenly we find ourselves knocked to the floor as the passage way shifts sideways, causing us to be unable t avoid the next mana wave. Thankfully nothing happened, so it was just a sensor, however one can never tell. When the floor stopped moving, we suddenly found ourselves facing a thicket of webs... arachnid monsters... now we are just going back the way we came! What demented god of trickery has cursed us!?

We have been down here for quite some time, to the point that even I am beginning to grow annoyed, Milith has grown undeniably frantic, unable to even sleep, causing their body to begin to wear out, the fur falling off in droves, teeth cracked from their jaw clenching, and bald from all the head tearing. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought Milith had contracted mange.

This place has had us going in circles for awhile, but now we have managed to break into a location we dont recognize, but we cant see very far due to a great many statues blocking our view. Whats strange is that some seem to be smashed into pebbles, but who are we to judge what mortals do in here.

We walk past a large creature that is quite common back home, it's canine body held up by four thick front legs, and two huge back legs, several thousand quills forming a mane around it's neck and shoulders, and the mouth hanging slack in three different pieces as drool leaked out. It was snoring, so we gave it no mind, not wanting to take a chance in our current situation with it's magic eating fangs, or spirit rending claws.

Still, I really am curious as to if the rumors of the petrifying gaze are true. I have looked many in the eye, but never with a physical form... That being said, I'm curious, not moronic, there's always next time. Milith has calmed down a bit after we finally found some new passages, though they remain on edge. We haven't discussed much, as Milith has been focused on escape, making this whoul journey rather boring.

It isn't as though I don't understand how they feel, both of us are Wind Magi after all, confined spaces really don't agree with us... or us them I suppose. Not that the earth back in our realm so much as twitched all that often, but it was still odd to not seem at least one Rock Magi open it's eyes in curiosity as we passed by. All the Earth Magi were rather stoic, but the Rock Magi were straight up removed from socializing, unless they deem it needed. Very few have ever heard one speak.

My wondering thoughts are interrupted when I notice Milith has stopped walking. I stop as well, waiting for an explination, but I didn't expect their muted question.

"Dragon Litch...?"

Peering ahead, I see two enormous glowing eyes peering back from the end of the tunnel...

I grasped at my chest, flying through the passages as quickly as my wings will allow, paying little attention to direction, focused only on losing my persuers. I flitted around corners, and darted under the legs of undead, thinking only of escape, even as my ichor fell to the stones. No matter what, I must not die near THAT THING!!!

Milith, why didn't you just run!? Why did you save me from that black mana!? Why did we have to come to this cursed place!?

Questions such as these buzzed through my mind, causing me to bump into a few walls in my haste. Armored undead were chasing me, if the other undead down here were children, the ones chasing me would be demons! Tireless bodies inhabited by keen minds, and empowered by their abominable master, I wouldn't stand a snow balls chance in the Realms of Inferna against this many of them, never mind tied to a mortal body as small and weak as this!

I was forced to hesitate when I came to a wall of webbing. I can hear them getting closer, the wet squish of their puss filled feet, the clanking of bone against armor, and looking back I see several pairs of crimson red dots sprint around the corner. No other paths, I have to risk it!

I shoot Telum Ignis at the webbing, and dive through the hole, finding myself in a maze of webs, similar to an ant hill, but with floors, walls and ceilings of silk. I flutter through these small passages, careful not to touch the walls. Suddenly, the entire structure shakes as the undead slam into the webs, getting stuck almost instantly.

After a second, the shaking stopped as the undead were restrained by the webbing. But then the shaking became worse than before, I barely had enough time to fly back out of the smoldering gap I made before dozens, and dozens of hatchlings threw themselves at the cacooned undead, many dying by their own fellows, being made part of the frenzied feast. It wasn't long before the undead were stripped to bare skeletons, not that they cared, still trying to free themselves as I ducked back into the silken passages.

I found that the passages were all connected, making navigation rather easy compared to the maze as a whole. I also found out that these hatchlings are as blind as a deep horror. Despite their eight eyes they didn't even react to my flying right past their faces. Hopefully I can avoid gaining their interest.

I flutter past hatchlings three ties my size, most of them much larger, their eight eyes gazing out in dead stares creepily. One has taken to following me, best I can figure is it's following the dripping sensations from my ichor... If it wasn't so terrifying what it would do to me, I may have pet it, as honestly this behavior was quite adorable. It was so close I could make out the smallest hairs along it's skin, and the small black dots in the center of their eyes which were so useless in their role... but I could also make out the tiny holes in it's four pincer-esk fangs which glistened slightly with the acidic fluid that acts as it's main weapon.

The passages were actually quite empty for how expansive they were, so I rarely came into close proximity to a hatchling, thankfully not once with an adult, but I have found pleanty of remains from their meals, from still struggling skeletons, to inanimate ones, to emptied husks of various prey, all stripped bare. Clearly these things are ravenous...

I clutched the gash, trying to slow the bleeding, thankful to have chosen a body absent of nerves, as I hear some mortals have quite a high sense of pain... That being said, I would have preffered to have taken the form of one of these spiders, because at least then I could traverse this damned place without a care. But with a larger frame comes an actual brain, and with a brain an actual soul, and souls are very difficult to dominate due to their engrained need to survive.

At some point, I began to be able to see parts of the ceiling through the top of the passages, but this wasn't due to the webs lowering to the floor, rather I seem to have made my way to the top of the main passage. That hatchling is still following me, making me think it is rather persistent, and dumb, as even a roach is likely to have figured out that whatever is leaving those drops is just ahead of them. At this point my form has stopped changing, as my weakened state has forced me to clutch to every scrap of mana I can get... While easy to inhabit, insects and other small creatures don't possess much compatability with ambient mana.

I believe the closest thing a mortal would understand, is that a bigger hole takes in more water at once... crude, but not inaccurate. Why mortals insist on trying to complicate such a simple concept as mana is beyond me... By the elders, losing so much ichor must be effecting me, this is no time to have wondering thoughts...

As I continue on, I can feel the strength slowly fading from my body, unable to even attempt to dodge the mana waves, not that anything happens. I guess the spiders would have set off all the traps long ago...

I am forced to land in a clear spot amongst the webs, growing tired from loss of ichor. I was pleasently surprised to find a oil lamp with a wick. Lighting it with a quick flame spell, I sat down near it. My whole body is cold... the warmth is nice... So tired...

I laid back against a stone wall in a small cubby space, my eyelids drooping, my limbs growing numb. Is this the sensation of a slow death?... Am I fated to be one of a handful of Magi to experience this sensation?... Many of our kind will never know the sensations one experiences when their life ends... as Magi are unaging, and eternal... Even our deaths are not absolute, the energies from our death being formed into ambient mana. In our home lands, this energy would be used to form a new Magi, if enough is present even multiple... But here?...

Milith... I fear I may soon join you in the Astral Sea... Loyalty is nearly impossible to find amongst Magi, and for that I thank you...