The smell was the worst of it. The pungent odour struck his nostrils the moment the Temple appeared in their sights, a positive gale of foul-smelling wind, rising to meet like them like an almost living force, despite being hundreds of feet away.

"Urgh," he muttered quietly, so that his partner could not hear.

"Disgusting," she said, screwing up her face in utter revulsion. She turned to look at him, disbelief and uncertainty alike reflected in the bright green of her eyes. "Are you sure this is the place? Perhaps you read the text wrong, and it was actually pointing us somewhere more fragrant."

"I didn't get it wrong," he said dismissively. "This is the place. Just keep moving." He kept the small, porcelain vial cradled in both hands as he walked, feeling the heat radiating from it in his palms. Though the evening was cool and dark, he was sweating profusely beneath his steel-grey jumpsuit.

They picked their way across the jagged, parched-looking earth, heading unsteadily towards the mouth of the Temple, their short journey punctuated by many snorts of impatience and disgust from Mesmira. Iron Titan ignored them all, his eyes fixed on the great tabernacle rising in front of them, a magnificent stone edifice whose imposing beauty was only slightly tempered by the relentless lashing of time and harsh weather, in whose depths She was surely waiting.

"Stop."

They had just reached the entrance, which was, predictably, sealed, when Mesmira flung out an arm, her claw-like nails piercing through his uniform as she wrapped her hand around his bicep.

"What?"

"Wouldn't you expect there to be traps here? Given the situation?"

He scoffed and wrenched his arm free. "Don't tell you're afraid," he sneered.

"Fear and caution are two very different things, mon amour," she said.

"If you're worried about booby traps, this isn't a children's movie. There's no trick steps, no trip wires, no buckets of rotten milk hanging from the roof ready to dunk us and ruin your mascara, so there's no need to worry. This place has been abandoned for centuries."

"As if I'm going to entrust my life to you," she said with a scoff. She pushed him out of the way and approached the sealed doorway. She was draped in a cloak the colour of fresh blood, with a hood pulled up over her hair. She now drew it down, and a mane of chestnut-brown hair cascaded down her shoulders. As she raised her head, her green eyes focused on the stone, another feature was revealed: an oval-shaped eye in the center of her forehead. It was almost like a tattoo, so detailed it was, but he knew precisely what it could do.

With both regular eyes closed, she merely stood still, gazing through the stone and into the interior with that unnerving addition. He did not interrupt her, though he would have liked to have done. After a few minutes, she opened her eyes, and the third closed, the lids sliding sideways across her forehead like a snake's, so that the skin of her face looked smoothly inscrutable once more.

"Nothing," she said. "It's completely empty."

"Colour me shocked," said Iron Titan. "Get out of the way."

She shuffled aside at his impatient gesture, and he placed the vial gently into her hands. He raised his left arm, his hand curling into a fist, and the skin of his arm was suddenly enveloped in a sheet of shining silver. He drew back his fist and launched a swift punch: with a noise like an explosion, the stone shattered, sending dust and debris flying into the room beyond.

It cleared, and the interior came into view, a vast room with a lofty ceiling, lined with brown tiles dulled with dust, and emerald-flamed lanterns hung from the ceiling, which were incredibly still burning, casting their flickering lights over a number of handsome mosaics embedded upon the walls. The smell that rose now was almost overwhelming in its ferocity, like concentrated ammonia, but again he fought through it. He held out a hand for the vial, and as she slid it into his palm, he stepped through the gap and into the room. Mesmira followed, the slight clacking of her wedged boots muffled by the inch of dust carpeting the floor. They had gone no more than a few steps forward when a great rumbling sound caused them to wheel around in alarm. The mound of debris was rising into the air and soaring back into place in the wall, so that the hole closed over, leaving the room as if it had never seen his fist.

"That's not ominous at all," said Mesmira.

"Let's go."

Though he tried to sound curt, he was inwardly apprehensive, walking through the dusty halls of the Temple with the faintly glowing vial in his hands like an offering. In a way, it was.

"It's down here," Mesmira said, pointing. She turned down the hallway to their left, where the emerald fire of the lanterns was glowing more fiercely, flooding the walls with eerie green light. He followed her as she walked, her confidence seeming to grow with every step. He had just about lost track of how long they had been walking when Mesmira suddenly halted.

"Here," she said, pointing a long-nailed finger at the door directly in front of them. It too was closed off, but unlike the first, an image was engraved upon the stone surface, of three women in flowing robes all sitting around a fire, seemingly stroking wisps of the flame.

"All right, stand — oomph!"

He was suddenly airborne, soaring down the other end of the corridor. He crashed against the wall, a sharp pain flaring in his back, but luckily the vial was still clutched in his slightly sweaty hands, undamaged. He looked up in time to see Mesmira backing towards him, her eyes fixed on something he had only ever seen in cartoons when he was younger: a glowing green apparition, a spectral figure of an old man, with a gaping, hissing mouth and wide, blank eyes, hovering an inch aboveground — an actual ghost.

Mesmira closed her eyes again and the third oculus positioned upon her forehead flickered open. The single iris blazed red, and a beam of scarlet energy erupted from the pupil, blasting through the ghost. It vanished in a wisp of mint-coloured smoke.

"There's sure to be more," Iron Titan said, standing up — and sure enough, the words had barely left his mouth when more green ghouls blossomed from the walls, from the floor, from the ceiling, surrounding them, filling the corridor with that spine-tingling hissing noise, and all dressed in the remains of what looked like Greek togas.

"Get inside!" Mesmira ordered. "Do it, I'll handle them."

He did not hesitate, but again morphed his arm so that metal slipped over the skin, and he tore through the door with a single punch. The room ahead was entirely empty except for a single ornate tomb, whose headstone was inlaid with many brightly twinkling jewels. Before he could take a single step inside, however, the room was suddenly full of an entire crowd of the same ghouls that had appeared outside.

Gritting his teeth, he hugged the vial closer to his chest, and the metal slid smoothly over his skin to encase the rest of his body. A guttural cry burst from his mouth and he charged into the room. The swarm of ghosts immediately swooped upon him, slashing and punching, their strikes oddly and inconveniently tangible.

Though they did not break through the metal shell encasing his skin, their arms passed through him like stones in water, and with every touch he felt a sharp pain sear in his limbs.

But he fought through it, smashing through the barrage of assailants while behind him Mesmira turned the laser of her additional eye on her opponents. A few seconds later a scream reached his ears, and, against his will, he wheeled around to see a number of ghosts crowding around her while she lay on the ground. In his moment of distraction, a ghost swooped down upon him and clawed at his arm. The pain in his hand was so intense that his fingers loosened and the vial clattered away from him. With pure reflex, his foot shot out: the vial fell onto the soft leather of his feet and rolled away, but the cap fell off on impact, spilling a little of the substance inside.

It was like lava, a thin stream of molten liquid. The floor simmered where it had touched, but the ghosts immediately wheeled around, now focusing on the fallen container. The entire group, both outside and inside the room, came streaming forward, all trying to get to the vial, snarling and clawing at their competitors to reach it like a pack of wolves fighting over a fresh mound of meat.

Iron Titan dashed forward, rolled through the tide, feeling the stings of their incorporeal forms against his own, and snatched it up. He took to the air, leaping towards the tomb, and brought his fist down against the white marble. Unlike the walls, however, it did not break, but thin cracks spread across its surface.

A small number of ghosts were still ripping at each other, trying to lick the spilled substance from the ground like dogs. The rest turned their sights on him again. A blast of energy tore through their forces, and he turned to see Mesmira aiming in at them.

"Hurry!" she screamed. He raised his fist again and slammed it repeatedly against the tomb. The cracks deeped with every hit until, with a final, almighty crash, the surface of the tomb split open, revealing an interior lined with white cloth, upon which lay a perfectly preserved skeleton draped in white chiffon, its hands laced across its ribcage. The entire party of ghouls drew backwards as one, hissing in what sounded like fear. Seizing the opportunity granted by the sudden reprieve, he turned the vial upsidedown and the substance within splattered across the skeleton's hollowed chest.

Unlike when it had touched the ground, however, the lava-like substance did not melt the bones. On the contrary, it seeped into the spaces between its ribs, and the faint red glow brightened, consuming the entire corpse. The ghosts started shrieking animatedly, now trying desperately to flee, disappearing through the walls, into the floor, trying to force their way through the door.

Iron Titan followed their progress with mingled amazement and curiosity. But then a blaze of light erupted from the tomb. It was pure white, so bright that it was harsh to look at. It streamed up to the ceiling, and then expanded outwards, enveloping the entire room with its brilliant glow.

Within moments, the corridor was completely quiet, the room empty. He looked up, and first his gaze lit upon Mesmira, whose eyes — all three of them — were fixed in horror on something else. Iron Titan followed her gaze, and his eyes landed on the blaze of light that had emerged from the tomb, which was still burning in the center of the room. A moment later it died down, and a woman appeared where it had been. Her skin was pale as death, as if the colour had drained from her body and into the light which had burned around her. Her entire form was bare, strongly built, with black hair caught up in a large messy bun, several strands braided around the nape.

Her arms were fully outstretched sideways from her body, and from each extended a blade, but they were blades unlike any he had ever seen. The hilts were pure gold, embedded with large blue-green jewels, and the shafts themselves were of a shining dark grey material.

The woman turned, and her eyes focused on him. Her face, though beautiful, was blank, as if it had been frozen in an expression of cold indifference, but it was her eyes that made her frightening. They were pure black, with no visible iris, and he felt as though they were piercing through to his very soul. He did not speak. A small voice in his mind told him it was unwise. She stared at him, unblinking, then her gaze moved to his left, where the now empty vial lay.

"Water from the River Phlegethon," she remarked. Her tone was colourless, almost robotic. "It was you who restored me?"

"Yes," Iron Titan said, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Atropos, eldest of the Fates . . . the Thread-cutter."

She nodded. "For your aid, I will grant you three minutes to speak why you have come here, or to flee. Then I will kill you and your companion."

There was no change in her expression or her tone, but Mesmira blanched behind her.

"I have come to make you an offer," Iron Titan said hastily.

"There is nothing you can offer me that I cannot provide for myself," said Atropos. "Two minutes, fifty three seconds."

Mesmira shot him a look of urgency behind her back.

"Oh yes, yes there is!" he said. He stood and reached into his back pocket. Under her dark, cold gaze he held out his hand, and revealed a strange, iridescent stone as large as a ball.

"What is this?" she asked.

"It is a compass," Iron Titan said. "Or at least, it should be. Right now it is incomplete. But, when finished, it will lead the way to a treasure I am sure you will like. Midèn kai ápeiro."

Emotion flashed across her face for a fraction of a second: shock, suspicion. Then her visage relaxed into the empty stillness it had presented earlier. "How do you know about that?"

"Because I too am searching for them," Iron Titan said.

"We are," Mesmira corrected, getting up and dusting off. Atropos's sudden interest in the idea seemed to have convinced her that it was safe to move. "Us and the rest of the Black Covenant."

Atropos's vast dark eyes found Mesmira's face. "The Black Covenant? I have never heard of such a thing."

"Well, no, you wouldn't have. It's a fairly recent movement," Mesmira said. "And you've — well — been here for quite some time. But it doesn't matter. What matters is that we too are looking for them, and we may have some intel on how we might find them."

"Elaborate."

"Ah ah," Iron Titan said, wagging a finger and smirking, as Mesmira joined his side. "Not quite yet. We have a few terms."

"Terms?" Atropos repeated, her voice delicately inflecting disbelief.

"Yes," Mesmira said. "We will help you find it, if you help us."

"With what?"

"Oh you know, day to day minutia that comes with the job." Iron Titan shrugged. "We may have some bigger purposes too," he continued, smirking. "You join the Black Covenant, help us, and we will give you access to our resources. And when we succeed, you will be granted our prize, but we will have our uses for it as well."

Atropos was silent, swords still poised. After several long minutes, she lowered her arms, and the swords vanished into her palms. "The bargain is acceptable," she said. "But make no mistake: should you, or any of your associates, seek to subvert any of your promises for selfish claims, it will be your last act."

Mesmira and Iron Titan exchanged looks. "Deal," they both said.

"Where shall we begin our quest, then?"

"Follow us. We have a few more members we want to pick up along the way. First off, a little bird named Shadow Shifter."

Mesmira and Iron Titan turned and began to walk out of the cavern, and Atropos followed. As she strode behind them, a shining suit of black armour appeared over her skin, as though woven from thin air, and a smirk curled her scarlet lips.