The figure's sword sliced downward. Dargany slipped away just in time. The sword's tip clipped the well with a cling. Gris gasped and jerked away as the rope snapped in the process. He fumbled to regain his grip and footing as the ladder did a deep swing.

"Dargany," he shouted.

The soldier had unsheathed his sword and was already deflecting the figure's quick strikes. Their silhouettes moved skillfully in the darkness and their clinking and scraping disturbed the wood's peaceful silence.

"Just go, Gris. Find her. I'll be right behind you," Dargany said finding his footing.

Gris stared weary-eyed at the single rope holding him and the ladder and knew he had to decide what to do. If he continued to descend, the rope would definitely snap and Dargany wouldn't be able to follow. If he climbed out to retie the rope, Eron would walk further away, and he would never find him in the maze of tunnels.

But he had to save Mageia, or no one will know what happened to her.

"Don't die Dargany," Gris shouted.

"Go," the soldier shouted gradually leading the figure deeper into the woods in their fierce sword fight.

Gris carefully descended, feeling the ladder snag above. He could hear the snagging and it urged him to hurry. Just as he reached close to the end of the rope it snapped. He free fell the rest of the way, back sliding along the opposite side of the well. He crashed into a puddle of water and a sharp pain slid up his right ankle.

"Agh," he screamed, catching his footing.

He had no time to waste. Grimacing, he clawed around for the door and its handle and slipped into another section of darkness. He leaned on the side walls as he limped to keep from crashing into them. The water beneath his feet and the wet walls told him he was inside an old draining system that probably led towards the river. When he reached a dead end made of thick slabs of stone, he felt around for a door or a handle.

Perched on his left, he quickly pried open the door made of a thick stone material and was greeted with light. A small lantern hung on the wall revealing four wheeled carts filled with shovels and axes. Everything was marked with the symbol of the Runes; a triangle with an axe head across it. The walls were made of the finest black stone material which Gris recognized as the new ten-year-old material for structure foundations.

This only meant that this addition to the drainage system was done within that timeframe. He unhooked the lantern and picked up his pace. Every yard or so was a lantern, freshly lit as if this tunnel was commonly used. But Gris couldn't recall any structure plans for beneath the palace as of late. Most of the time, slaves were involved for building and he would oversee their well-being.

Perhaps, his father didn't know about this, or this job was completed before he was given the title of Master of Slaves. Either way, he hadn't run into any guard or soldier yet and it made the hairs along his arms stand.

For about thirty minutes, maybe more, he walked the straight and narrow tunnel. He gripped the hilt of his sword hoping he had not forgotten how to use it. He strained his ears to listen for voices or footsteps ahead and heard none. When he reached a pair of stairs, descending into another tunnel, he knew he was beyond the royal walls and entering Hiilaan.

There were no more doors to pry open nor any adjoined tunnelways, so he knew he was going the right direction. He thought and pictured of what he would do if he confronted Eron and the soldier. What would he say? What would he do? He was so far away from the palace now; he knew there was no turning back. And worse of all, they could easily kill him, and no one would know except Dargany. That is, if Dargany had beaten the mysterious figure.

Gris stretched out his aching back from slamming into the well wall and picked up his pace. The tunnel curved here and there, but there were no breaks. Thick sweat poured down his face and the air hung muggy and partly wet. Slowly, the light along the walls subsided leaving him and his single light to find his way. He approached his first adjoined tunnel and noticed a sign.

"Hillostron Street," he read.

He was indeed in Hiilaan. Possibly in the lower half of it, closer to the Hiivale. If Eron and the soldier went that way, he would never know because he continued straight. About an hour or so passed and his adrenaline kept him moving and on full alert. He passed five more adjoined tunnels leading eastward before he decided to stop and take a break.

He wiped the sweat from his brow and shook his head in defeat. Mageia was gone, probably gone forever. Eron could've turned into one of the side tunnels or continued the main tunnel. A slither of doubt formed in his gut.

What if Eron had nothing to do with Mageia? What if he was taking an underground shortcut to a guard post or possibly the Hiivale?

If so, he really lost Mageia now.

"Oh gods what to do?" he said sliding down the wall to crouch.

He wheezed, pressing a hand to his tight chest. His back and his legs ached, his feet burned, his twisted ankle throbbed, tiny burn blisters stung, and a nasty headache was forming. Not only was he exhausted and possibly dehydrated, but he realized Dargany was right. He was in no shape to execute another rescue.

He sat the lantern down, prepared to give up.

"Mageia, I'm so sorry," he whispered trying to catch his breath.

A rat scurried across the tunnel from some unseen hole. Gris jumped in start by the rodent and grabbed the lantern to shew it away. But the rat was already minding his business and stopped to nibble on a white cloth down the tunnel.

"What do you have there?" He said, climbing to his feet.

He went to investigate, and the rat sprinted away. He picked up the cloth. It was a handkerchief with Lord Hercones' initials and sigil sewn into a corner. Gris shivered at the stains of blood.

Why would this be here?

It didn't take long for him to figure out why. He held the lantern high to light the tunnel ahead. His heart stammered.

"Mageia," he said and continued down the main tunnel.

And then he heard it. An irritated scream. It was far because the echo greeting Gris was small and faint. He picked up his pace ignoring the pain in his ankle until he came across his first intersection. Three directions stood in front of him, and only one possessed a great amount of light at its end.

He halted and backed away to hide behind the wall. Heart thudding wild, he knew he couldn't turn around now. He waited for voices or even sounds of people moving and heard nothing. Gris sat his lantern down and began walking down the tunnel, keeping his back to the wall. He unsheathed his sword, hilt feeling a bit foreign in his sweaty hand. But he took small breaths and mentally reviewed his sword combat training.

At this point, he prayed Dargany was able to defeat the mysterious figure, find a way down the well, and figure out which way Gris went to offer his assistance.

Keeping the possibility alive, pressed him to move onward.

Gris noticed an old army banner hanging on the opposite wall. Ardania's sigil was on it and beside it read, THE EARTH BASE. As he drew closer, he passed by two doors opposite of the other, made of wood. The walls were made of old stone bricks and hardened mud. This was a very old underground base. Gris could only think of twelve out of twenty-eight still active throughout the kingdom.

This one was not active. There would be an abundant of light, more security, more activity, and more life. Instead, Gris shivered from its icy cold air and felt this base could be haunted or cursed. Reaching the frame of the entryway, he heard Mageia muffle and struggle, closer than expected.

He stole a peek. Sitting in the center of a circular clearing of doors was Mageia. She sat in a chair. Her mouth was gagged, and her hands tied behind her back. Two of the assassins stood behind her, grinning, and waiting patiently. Gris edged out further sensing something was not right.

Where was Eron?

Instantly, they saw him. Mageia's eyes widened in pure horror.

She screamed something and Gris could feel a chilly presence appear behind him. He spun around and slashed at the darkness consuming the light. But no one was there. Then a laugh echoed off the walls, but Gris could see no one.

"Reveal yourself," he said backing away.

Mageia continued screaming a warning to him, but he couldn't understand. A figure formed within the darkness of the entry. He stepped forward into the light and Gris' sword hand loosened in his awe and fear. The shadow gave a grin and Gris could see straight through it.

"What are you?"

"A shadowdemon, of course," the shadow said in that familiar voice, but there was a distinct hiss added to it.

Before his eyes he watched the shadow form into a soldier, wearing the Hiilaan uniform and sword. But instead of those bright blue eyes, black holes grinned within his eye sockets.

"You," he trembled, keeping his sword aimed.

"Welcome to the Base, my prince," he said with a creepy twitch.

Dark smoke grew around Gris' body and his sword yanked out of his grip. In the seconds of staring from his hand to the sword clanking across the floor, the shadowdemon flew towards him. Gris gasped and felt his soul leave his body.