The sun hung low over the market square, casting long shadows across the cobblestones as Vince approached the agreed meeting point. The familiar sight of Tors and Ren came into view, the twins leaning casually against a cart laden with barrels of ale. Their identical grins widened the moment they spotted Vince.
"There he is!" Tors bellowed, striding forward and pulling Vince into a bear hug that lifted him off the ground. "Thought you'd forgotten about us!"
Ren appeared next to them, his hands already tugging playfully at Vince's hair. "Still alive, eh? Didn't think those fancy nobles would let you out of their gilded cage."
Vince chuckled, shrugging off the teasing as warmth spread through his chest. Being with the twins felt like slipping into a well-worn pair of boots, comfortable and familiar. "I've been busy. Things have been... complicated."
"Complicated?" Ren echoed, raising an eyebrow. "That's fancy noble speak for boring."
Tors laughed, slapping Vince on the back. "Well, you're here now, and that's what matters. Come on, we've got plenty to catch up on."
The trio meandered through the bustling square, stopping at a food stall to buy skewers of roasted meat. They ate as they walked, the conversation flowing easily. Vince listened to the twins recount their latest antics, from narrowly escaping a group of watchmen to pulling off a daring heist involving a merchant's prized gold-plated goblet.
"You should've seen his face!" Tors exclaimed, his mouth full of food. "Thought he'd been robbed by ghosts or something."
Ren snickered. "Would've been worth it just to hear him scream."
Vince shook his head, half-amused, half-exasperated. "You two are going to get yourselves arrested one of these days."
"Not with you around," Ren said with a grin, nudging Vince. "You've always been the smart one."
The conversation shifted as Vince decided to share the tale he'd heard from the soldiers at the keep. "You know," he began, his tone conspiratorial, "I heard something interesting the other night."
The twins perked up immediately, their curiosity piqued. "Do tell," Tors urged, leaning closer.
"It's about Maze," Vince said, lowering his voice. "The city, I mean. Apparently, it was built over an ancient labyrinth. The mages who founded the city discovered it, but no one knows who built it or why."
Ren's eyes lit up, and he gestured wildly with his half-eaten skewer. "A labyrinth? Like with traps and treasure?"
"Probably more curses than treasure," Vince replied, smirking. "But they say the sewers still connect to parts of it. If you go deep enough, you can find massive stones carved with runes: ancient ones."
Tors and Ren exchanged an excited look. "We've got to see it," Tors declared. "Imagine what we could find down there!"
"Yeah, traps, curses, and our untimely deaths," Vince said dryly, though he couldn't deny the spark of curiosity that had been kindled in his chest.
"Don't be a spoilsport," Ren chided, already brimming with enthusiasm. "We're going."
Vince sighed, a half-smile tugging at his lips. He knew there was no stopping them once they got an idea in their heads. "Fine," he said, giving in. "But if we end up being chased by sewer rats the size of horses, it's on you."
The twins whooped in victory; their energy infectious. Together, the trio made their way toward the closest sewer entrance.
There were several entrances to the city's sewer ways. The closest entrance to the sewers the boys knew of wasn't exactly hidden, but it wasn't something people ventured toward willingly. The grate they found was rusted at the edges; its bars streaked with years of grime. Vince knelt by it, gripping the sturdy iron rod he'd borrowed to pry it open. The twins stood behind him: one was holding a lantern, and the other was fidgeting with a coil of rope.
"Sure you want to do this?" Vince asked over his shoulder, his tone half-teasing.
"Absolutely," Tors replied with a wide grin. "Adventure awaits!"
"Or something worse," Vince muttered, giving the rod a final shove. The grate creaked loudly as it gave way, the sound echoed into the dark tunnel below. A foul, damp smell wafted up to greet them, and Ren wrinkled his nose.
"Lovely," Ren said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "What a place to spend an evening."
"Better than running from guards," Tors quipped, shoving Ren lightly toward the opening. "In you go."
With their lantern lit and torches in hand, the trio descended into the sewers. The air grew cooler and thicker as they moved deeper: the faint trickle of water and the occasional plop of something unidentifiable was their only company. The narrow passages forced them into single file, and Vince led the way, his torch casting flickering shadows on the slick walls.
The ground beneath their feet was uneven, alternating between damp stone and patches of murky water. Ren slipped once, his foot plunging into a particularly foul-smelling puddle. He let out a colorful string of curses as Tors burst into laughter.
"You'd think with all your sneaking around, you'd be better at walking," Tors teased.
"Shut it," Ren grumbled, shaking his boot. "At least I'm not holding the lantern upside down."
Tors glanced at the lantern and frowned, realizing his brother was right. "Details," he muttered, adjusting it.
They pressed on, navigating a maze of crisscrossing tunnels. Vince tried to keep track of their path, but the similarity of every passageway made it difficult. Every so often, they paused to consult their surroundings, debating which way to go. Ren tied one end of the rope to a rusted pipe near their starting point, insisting it would help them find their way back.
"Heroic and practical," Ren declared, earning an eye roll from Vince.
After what felt like an eternity of wading through stagnant water and jumping over questionable muck, the twins began to voice their doubts.
"Are we sure this labyrinth even exists?" Ren asked, his tone skeptical. "Because all I'm seeing is sludge and regret."
"Maybe the stories were exaggerated," Tors admitted, though his disappointment was evident.
Vince was about to respond when the ground beneath them suddenly shifted. The three of them froze as a low groan reverberated through the tunnel. Before they could react, the floor gave way with a deafening crack, and they plummeted into the darkness below.
They landed in a cloud of dust and debris, coughing as they tried to orient themselves. Vince groaned, rubbing his side as he pushed himself to his feet. "Everyone okay?" he asked, squinting through the gloom.
"Define 'okay,'" Ren replied, his voice muffled.
Tors' lantern had miraculously survived the fall, its light revealing the massive chamber they now found themselves in. The walls and floor were made of smooth, dark stone: their surfaces were etched with intricate runes. The carvings shimmered faintly in the lantern's glow, their patterns weaving together like an ancient tapestry.
Vince's breath caught in his throat. "This... this is it," he murmured, awe filling his voice. "The labyrinth."
The twins slowly stood, their eyes wide as they took in the sight. "You've got to be kidding me," Tors said, his earlier doubts forgotten. "It's real."
Ren knelt by one of the runes, tracing it with his finger. "Whoever made this was insane. Look at the detail."
Vince's gaze lingered on the symbols, some of them strikingly familiar. They matched the ones he'd seen in his magic book. A faint hum of energy seemed to pulse through the stones, and he felt a pull deep within his chest.
"We found it," he said softly, more to himself than to the others. But his awe was interrupted by Ren kicking one of the stones.
"Not much of a labyrinth if there's no entrance," Ren said, wincing as he clutched his foot. "Damn, that's solid."
Tors snickered, stepping up to the stone. "Let me show you how it's done." He threw a punch, only to recoil with a yelp, shaking his hand. "Okay, maybe not."
Before they could continue their antics, a faint scratching sound echoed through the chamber. Vince froze, his eyes darting toward a side tunnel. The sound grew louder, the distinct scrape of claws on stone sending a chill down his spine.
"What's that?" Ren whispered, his voice tense.
Vince raised his torch, its light casting long shadows as the scratching intensified. From the darkness, a cluster of glowing eyes appeared, each set accompanied by the low growls and squeals of giant rats.
"Get ready," Vince said, gripping his torch tighter as the creatures began to charge.
The fight for their lives had begun.
The rats surged forward in a wave of snarling teeth and wiry fur: their glowing red eyes catching the flickering light of Vince's torch like embers in the shadows. They were unnaturally large, the size of small dogs, and their bodies radiated malice as they closed in. The sound of their claws scraping against the stone was relentless, grating on the boys' nerves as the creatures pressed forward.
"Here they come!" Vince shouted, stepping in front of Tors and Ren. He raised the torch like a shield, cursing himself for leaving his sword back at the keep.
Tors grabbed a rusted metal pipe from the debris at his feet, while Ren armed himself with a jagged piece of broken stone. "Why are these things so bloody big?" Ren muttered, his voice trembling as the first rat lunged at them.
Vince swung the torch in a wide arc, the flames flaring dangerously close to the lead rat's face. The creature shrieked and recoiled, but the others didn't hesitate. A second rat darted in from the side, its claws scrabbling for purchase on the stone floor. Vince shifted instinctively into The Fox Prowls the Hollow, his stance steady. He thrust the torch forward, the flaming tip driving into the creature's chest. It let out a piercing scream; its fur ignited as it fell back writhing.
"They're everywhere!" Tors shouted, swinging his pipe with wild abandon as another rat leapt at him. The impact sent the creature skidding across the floor with a sickening crunch; but two more took its place, their teeth snapping inches from his legs.
Ren hurled his stone at a rat barreling toward him; but the projectile missed wide, clattering against the wall. "Brilliant, Ren," he muttered under his breath, scrambling for another weapon. His hand closed around a rusty dagger buried in the rubble, and he slashed wildly as a rat lunged at him. The blade cut across the creature's face; it recoiled with a shriek, retreating into the shadows.
Vince's arms burned from the effort of swinging the torch, but he didn't falter. He pivoted into The Cat Swipes the Mouse, bringing the torch down hard on a rat that had darted too close. The creature's head cracked against the stone floor, and it fell limp. The firelight danced across the chamber, the rats' grotesque shadows flickering on the walls like wraiths.
"Vince, behind you!" Tors called out.
Vince whirled around just in time to see a rat mid-leap; its teeth bared. He ducked low, sweeping his leg in a fluid motion: The Fox Slinks Through the Grass. The rat hit the ground with a thud; and Vince drove the torch into its side before it could recover, the flames silencing its snarls.
Tors and Ren fought with frantic determination; their movements were raw but effective. Tors slammed his pipe into a rat's spine; the impact reverberated through the metal. Ren darted around the edges of the fight: jabbing his dagger at any creature that ventured too close.
The tide of rats seemed endless; but the boys held their ground, their desperation fueling their strikes. One by one, the creatures fell, their bodies piling up around the boys. The air grew thick with the acrid stench of blood and singed fur; the rats' dying shrieks echoed off the walls before fading into silence.
Vince stood in the center of the carnage; his chest heaved as he gripped the torch tightly. Its flames were sputtering but holding. Blood smeared his arms and face, mingling with the sweat that dripped from his brow. His muscles trembled from the strain, but he couldn't let himself relax. The faint scuttling sound of claws scratching stone still echoed in his ears.
"Are they gone?" Ren asked, his voice shaking as he leaned heavily on the wall.
Vince scanned the chamber, his eyes darting to every shadow. The red glow of the rats' eyes had vanished, leaving only the faint flicker of the torchlight. "I think so," he said finally, though his grip on the torch didn't loosen.
Tors let out a weak laugh, collapsing to the ground with a groan. "We lived. That's the important part, right?"
Ren slumped beside him, his dagger clattering to the floor. "Barely," he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief.
For a moment, the three boys sat in silence, their breathing labored as they tried to process what had just happened. Vince's mind raced, replaying the battle in his head. The rats' size and aggression had been unnatural. . . something wasn't right here.
"We need to get out of here," Vince said, his voice urgent as he rose to his feet. He reached down, pulling the twins up with him.
Ren didn't argue; he grabbed the coil of rope he'd brought. "Right behind you," he said, his voice still unsteady.
The boys hurried toward the collapsed section of the floor. Vince held the torch high to light the way. They worked together to secure the rope, their movements quick and practiced despite the exhaustion.
"Climb!" Vince urged, boosting Ren up first. The twins scrambled to the surface, hauling Vince up after them with a shared effort.
They tumbled onto the sewer floor above, coughing and gasping for air, hearts pounding from the ordeal. The chamber below grew silent once more; the only sound the faint crackle of the dying torch.
As they caught their breath, something stirred beneath them, unseen.
The blood pooling around the rats' bodies began to move drawn across the stone floor as though guided by an invisible hand. It trickled and spread in precise lines, weaving together into an intricate symbol that mirrored the runes carved into the walls. The runes pulsed faintly: an eerie glow emanating from the growing pattern.
Unnoticed by the boys, the symbol flared briefly; its energy radiating outwards before settling into an ominous stillness. Whatever they had stumbled upon, it was far from dormant.
The boys didn't linger. Vince led the way, the sputtering torch in his hand barely illuminated the rough stone walls of the sewer as they retraced their steps. Every sound seemed amplified in the tense silence: the slosh of water underfoot, the uneven echo of their hurried breathing, the faint drip of water from overhead.
"Why does it feel like these tunnels got longer?" Ren muttered, rubbing at a scratch on his arm. His voice was thin, as though speaking too loudly might bring the rats back.
"Because this sucks," Tors grumbled, his pipe now dragging against the wall for balance. "Now it feels like the damn place is trying to eat us alive."
Vince didn't respond, his eyes darting to every shadow. His nerves were still on edge, the memory of the glowing eyes of the rats and their biting mouths still fresh. He gripped the torch tighter, forcing himself to focus on the path ahead.
"We should never have come down here," Ren continued, half-limping as they trudged through ankle-deep water. "This was your idea, Tors."
"My idea?" Tors snapped, spinning to glare at his brother. "You're the one who brought a rope like we were going on some grand adventure!"
"Because I knew you'd get us stuck somewhere!" Ren shot back, his voice rising.
"Shut it, both of you!" Vince hissed, spinning on them. His eyes flashed in the dim light. "Arguing isn't going to get us out of here any faster. Move."
The twins grumbling fell silent. The tension eased as they pressed on; the sound of their footsteps echoed back at them from the unseen depths of the tunnels.
At last, they spotted the faint glimmer of daylight seeping through the edges of a rusted grate, their way out. Vince exhaled in relief, speeding up as he motioned for the others to follow. Together, they pushed the grate aside, the metal scraped loudly as it gave way.
The boys climbed out one by one, emerging into a narrow alley just as the late afternoon sun began its descent. Its warm rays felt almost foreign after the cold, damp darkness of the sewers. Vince collapsed against the brick wall; his torch clattered to the ground as he caught his breath.
"We made it," Tors said, his voice filled with disbelief. He wiped at his face, smearing dirt and grime across his cheek. "But we look like we crawled out of the Nine Hells."
"No kidding," Ren said, tugging at his damp, filthy shirt. "I'm soaked, I stink, and one of those huge rats bit me." He lifted his sleeve, revealing a red mark on his arm.
"Lucky you didn't get mauled worse," Vince said, forcing a half-smile as he straightened. "We need to clean up before anyone sees us. People might think we're criminals."
"You're joking, right?" Tors asked, shaking his head. "We look like we robbed a graveyard."
Ren snorted. "And lost the fight."
The three exchanged tired grins, their shared ordeal tempering the frustration. But as the moment passed, Vince's thoughts drifted back to the runes and the symbol they had seen. A cold unease settled in his gut. He needed to go back there eventually.
"Alright," Tors said, clapping Vince on the shoulder. "I'm heading back. I've had enough adventure for one day."
Ren nodded, stretching his sore arm. "Me too. Let's meet up tomorrow, yeah? Somewhere above ground this time."
"Definitely," Vince replied, his voice distracted.
The twins started down the alley, their voices fading into the hum of the streets. Vince lingered for a moment, his gaze drifting back toward the sewer grate. Taking a deep breath, he turned and headed back toward the Baron's keep, the distant cries of merchants and city life filled the air.
Vince soon reached the Baron's keep. His legs ached from the frantic pace he'd kept after parting ways with Tors and Ren, and the grime clinging to his clothes felt heavier with each step. As he approached the gates, the two guards stationed there turned their heads in unison; their eyes narrowed in bemusement.
"Well, look who crawled out of the sewer," one guard said, leaning on his halberd. His mustache twitched with a barely restrained grin.
"More like rolled in it and took a nap," the other added, his grin broadening. "Should we fetch the washerwomen, or is this a new fashion for young ones?"
Vince sighed, brushing at the dirt streaking his sleeves, which only smeared it further. "Just let me in, alright?" he said, his tone a mix of exhaustion and mild annoyance.
The guards exchanged a chuckle but stepped aside, waving him through with exaggerated flourishes. "Welcome back, Master Vince," one of them said, his voice laced with mock formality. "Do try not to track too much mud on the carpets."
Vince muttered a thank-you under his breath, ducking past them and into the courtyard. He had barely taken a few steps toward the keep's main entrance when a familiar voice called out.
"Well, well, what disaster have you stumbled into this time?"
Vince froze, heat rising to his face as he turned to see Lisa standing near the garden path. Her fiery red hair seemed to glow in the fading sunlight, and her green eyes sparkled with amusement as they took in his disheveled state.
"I'm serious, Vince," she continued, striding toward him with a teasing grin. "Why are you always so wet and dirty? It's like you have some secret hobby of rolling in muck."
Vince opened his mouth to reply, but his brain failed to produce anything coherent. The memory of her teasing words mingled with the image of Mira in his mind, leaving him flustered. He rubbed the back of his neck, his mouth working soundlessly as Lisa tilted her head, her grin widening.
"Oh, speechless now?" she teased, crossing her arms. "What happened this time? Did you fall into another canal?"
"Something like that," Vince managed, his voice barely above a mumble. He stepped back, his face burning. "I, uh… I need to get cleaned up. See you later."
Before Lisa could reply, Vince bolted for the keep's entrance, his retreat earning a light laugh from her. He didn't stop until he reached the safety of his room, slamming the door shut behind him and leaning against it with a groan.
"Why am I always so wet and dirty?" he muttered to himself, echoing Lisa's words. Shaking his head, he pushed off the door and peeled off his filthy clothes; he dropped them in a heap by the corner. He was able to do a quick wipe-n-wash from the fresh bathing tin set in his up in his room. How the butler always knew what Vince needed was beyond him. He donned fresh garments, his wet hair now plastered against his forehead.
Feeling somewhat human again, Vince turned to the small desk in the corner of his room. His leather-bound magic book sat waiting. He opened it carefully, flipping through the pages until he found the section on rune structures.
The runes he'd seen on the stones beneath the city filled his mind: their intricate lines and loops etched into his memory. Some of the symbols were faintly familiar, resembling basic runes he'd seen in the book; but others were far more complex, their purpose a mystery.
Vince leaned closer, tracing one of the runes on the page with his finger. "Flow," he murmured, recognizing the same shape Doonin had demonstrated in the library. He flipped to another page, scanning for more connections. As the hours passed, his frustration grew; he could piece together fragments, but the full meaning of the runes eluded him.
He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes.
"I'll figure it out," Vince said aloud, his voice firm. He would ask Doonin about it tomorrow.