The murky wastewater sloshed against their thighs, a putrid symphony of splashes echoing through the tunnel's throat. Behind them, the boy's hastily erected stone barrier—their last desperate defense—crumbled with a sound like breaking bones. The stone-carvers' thunderous footfalls sent ripples through the fetid water, their shadows stretching like grasping fingers across the curved walls.
Mara's heartbeats synchronized with the heat of the hunt. Ahead of her, Venom's serpentine form began to transform, its scales catching what little light penetrated these depths and fracturing it into glistening colors—auroras dancing across silvery glass.
The great serpent's metamorphosis was beautiful and terrible to behold. Its body swelled, doubling in size until it nearly filled half of the tunnel's width. Crystalline scales hardened into living shields, each one a faceted mirror of otherworldly power. As the stone-carvers unleashed their first volley—razor-sharp shards of rock howling through the stagnant air—Venom's body became a living wall. The serpent's massive form coiled and twisted with lethal grace, its scales singing a metallic dirge as they deflected the stone daggers back at their creators.
Several pursuers fell, their screams cut short by their own reflected weapons. But there were always more, an endless tide of shadows and malice pouring through the breach.
"This way!" The boy's voice carried over the chaos, gesturing toward a yawning archway ahead. But as they crossed the threshold, Mara's heart sank. They'd been herded like cattle into a vast circular chamber, a nexus where countless channels converged like spokes of a diseased wheel. The wastewater here churned in a lazy vortex, carrying with it the detritus of a thousand forgotten stories.
The stone-carvers spread out along the chamber's periphery, their hands raised in perfect harmony. Mara had seen enough combat to recognize the stance—they were preparing something massive, something devastating. The air itself seemed to thicken with anticipation.
The stone-carvers brought their hands together in a thunderclap of power. The tunnel walls behind them came alive, rock flowing like mercury, coalescing into a massive wave that filled the passage from floor to ceiling. It surged forward with inexorable force, a tsunami of animated stone that would crush them to paste against the chamber's far wall.
But Finn—elegant, bloodthirsty Finn—stepped into the breach. His sword flashed in an arc of obsidian and cut through the air. From the octet of holes in his blade, creatures of living flame emerged—wyrms of fire that would put Venom's transformation to shame. Their bodies were composed of ever-shifting flame, blacks and golds writhing together in patterns that hurt the eyes. His golden eye blazed like a newborn star, and power rolled off him in waves that made Mara's teeth ache.
The wyrms struck the stone wave with the force of a thousand forges, their heat so intense that the rock didn't just melt—it sublimated, turning directly to vapor that filled the chamber with choking clouds. The stone-carvers who had created the wave were reduced to ashes where they stood, their shadows briefly painted on the walls behind them before being swept away by the backdraft.
But like a hydra, where one pursuer fell, two more took their place. Rosemary's violet chains whipped through the air, each strike accompanied by a crack like thunder. The magical bindings caught their enemies across faces, throats, and chests, leaving smoking furrows in flesh and stone alike. Finn's wyrms continued their dance of destruction, their fiery bodies weaving between allies as they sought out new targets.
Then came the sound they'd all been dreading—a deep, resonant crack from above. The chamber's ceiling, weakened by the constant barrage of power, began to splinter. Chunks of stone the size of wagon wheels broke free, plummeting into the churning water below.
"The tunnel to Orden!" the boy screamed, pointing to a passage that glowed with a different quality of darkness. "Run!"
They didn't need to be told twice. The group sprinted through the thigh-deep water, every step a battle against the current and their own exhaustion. The ceiling continued to collapse behind them, a cascading wave of destruction that threatened to entomb them all in this watery grave.
Mara's lungs burned as she ran. She was nearly to the tunnel's mouth when she heard it—a cry of pain, followed by a splash. She turned to see the boy, his left leg pinned beneath a massive chunk of fallen ceiling. His face was a mask of agony as he tried and failed to free himself.
"Leave him!" Rosemary's voice cut through the chaos like one of her chains. "The tunnel's collapsing—we have to go now!"
Time seemed to slow as Mara stood there, torn between survival and duty. The weight of her healer's oath pressed against her chest, heavier than all the stone above them. Images flashed through her mind—all the times she'd sworn to do no harm, to help those in need. The face of every patient she'd lost, every life she couldn't save.
"Go!" she shouted to the others, already turning back. "I won't abandon him!"
Rather, she couldn't.
She splashed back through the water, grabbing hold of the boy's trapped leg. The stone was massive, far too heavy for her to lift alone. Behind her, she heard footsteps retreating—all except one set. She glanced back to see Rosemary standing there, conflict written across her face as she looked between Mara and the retreating form of Finn.
Expelling a mumbled curse, Rosemary rushed back to help. But even their combined strength couldn't budge the stone. The ceiling continued to fall around them, each impact sending ripples through the water that threatened to knock them off their feet.
Mara's hand fell to the dagger at her belt. The blade seemed to grow heavier as she drew it, its edge catching what little light remained in the tunnel.
"Hold him," she commanded Rosemary, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. The boy's eyes widened as he realized what she intended, but he didn't protest.
The dagger's edge was supernaturally sharp. It parted flesh and bone with terrible efficiency, guided by Mara's intimate knowledge of anatomy. The boy didn't scream, though his body went rigid with shock. His only sound was a sharp intake of breath, held until his face began to turn blue.
Blood mixed with the wastewater, spreading in clouds of crimson that reminded Mara of the ink drawings in her medical texts. But she wasn't done—couldn't be done, not if she wanted him to live. Even as Rosemary pulled the boy free of the stone, Mara's hands began to glow with healing light.
The boy watched with wide eyes as new flesh began to knit together where his leg had been severed. Muscle fibers wove themselves into familiar patterns, blood vessels branched like rivers across new terrain, skin flowed like wax to seal it all within. The magic threatened her with the impending cost, but she didn't stop. At least, not until she saw his toes wiggle, proof that the healing was complete.
"Can you stand?" she asked, her voice hoarse with exhaustion. The boy nodded, rising on legs that were once again matched pairs. There would be no scar, no trace of what had been done here except in their memories.
"Run!" Rosemary urged, and this time they all obeyed. They splashed through the tunnel toward the promise of light filtering through cracks in the distant ceiling. Behind them, the last of the chamber's ceiling collapsed with a sound like the end of the world, sealing their path and any pursuit that might have followed.
As they ran, Mara felt the weight of what she'd done settling around her shoulders like a cloak. She had saved him, yes, but at what cost to her own soul? The line between healer and harmer had felt so thin, so permeable. She knew she had to kill soon.
But there was no time for such thoughts, no space for philosophy in these dark tunnels. The light ahead grew stronger with each step, promising if not salvation, then at least a new chapter in their desperate journey. And sometimes, Mara thought as they ran, that had to be enough.
Above them, through the cracks in the tunnel's ceiling, filtered a light that seemed almost unholy in its intensity. It painted strange patterns on the water's surface, turning their wake into ribbons of gold. They ran toward it like moths to a flame, each step carrying them further from the darkness behind and closer to whatever waited ahead.
Finn's figure wavered ahead of them like a mirage, his sword still trailing whispers of flame. The wyrms had dissolved back into whatever realm they'd been summoned from, but their passing had left the air charged with potential, as if the very atmosphere might ignite at any moment. His golden eye still blazed, a beacon leading them forward through the gloom.
"What's the matter? Never seen the true power of an Artifact before?"
His words targeted Mara.
The healer remained quiet and concentrated on the ladder at the far end of the wall as she followed her allies as they climbed it.