The fortress felt like it was pushing in from all sides. James felt like he couldn't breathe. A hand fell softly on his shoulder.

  “You okay, silver?” She genuinely looked concerned. They had ducked into a small room, not much more than a closet. James pressed his back against the cold wall, sucking in deep, controlled breaths. His pulse pounded against his temples, his body aching. The hunger ate at him, a copper taste lingering with each breath. But he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Not yet.

  “Yea, I'm fine.” She crouched beside him, head tilted, listening. Loose strands of golden hair stuck to her cheek. Despite the danger, she looked unbothered, amused even. Something sparkled in her eyes.

  He risked a glance out the narrow window beside them. The rain had eased, but the sky remained dark and heavy with storm clouds. Far below, torchlight flickered against the stone ceiling, casting long shadows overhead. Higher up, somewhere deep in the fortress, the drums pounded, slow and measured. Each beat called to James, pulling him forward.

  “We got maybe an hour before midnight,” he whispered.

  Max is running out of time.

  "You’ve got that look," she said, tilting her head towards the window and following his gaze.

  "What look?" James pulled his eyes away from the window.

  “Like you’re about to do something stupid. I’ve seen it before." Her voice lost its teasing tone for a moment.

  "I’m going to follow the drums." James sighed. Pulling the scraps of his cloak around him.

  She nodded. Her expression barely flickered, but something passed through her eyes, quick and unreadable. She leaned against the stone, crossing her arms.

  "That’s your grand plan? Follow the ominous cult music and hope it leads you to your friend?"

  "You got a better idea?" James rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension there.

  "I have a lot of ideas, Silver. Most of them don’t involve running straight into a ritual designed to forcibly create a vessel, you know, one of us.” She pointed between the two each of them in turn. James ignored the twisting in his gut. Pushing out into the hallway.

  "I don’t have time to sit around debating options." He started down the corridor, keeping his steps light. "You coming or not?"

  There was a beat of silence. Then, her soft laughter followed, and she fell into step beside him. "You really are fun."

  The fortress corridors twisted in tight, winding paths, seemingly designed to confuse intruders. The air was thick with the scent of burning tallow and damp stone, the torches casting jagged shadows against the walls as they ran.

  James kept his steps soft and his breath steady, but hunger gnawed at him. His body felt coiled tight, on the edge of exploding, too aware of every movement, every noise.

  Breathe. “If you control your breath, you can control the situation.” Ser Edwin’s words were a rock in his mind, a foundation of calm to build upon. Beside him, she moved like smoke with effortless ease, her footfalls completely silent.

  The drums pounded ahead of them now. A deep, slow rhythm that made his bones vibrate.

  "We’re getting close," he murmured.

  "Pity. I was enjoying our little game." She hummed in agreement. James shot her a glare, but before he could answer, footsteps echoed from around the bend.

  They both froze. Their eyes met as two guards rounded the corner, their armor gleaming in the dim torchlight. James quickly glanced around. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

  She reacted first. Her hand curled around the back of James' neck instantly, pulling him forward. James barely had time to register the movement before she spun them, pressing his back against the cold stone.

  "Don’t move." Her lips were at his ear. She pressed her lips against his; this kiss was different than before. He leaned into it, wet and warm. Her hair covered his face and tickled his nose.

  The guards passed, their voices low and casual. One laughed, and the other muttered something about "getting a room."

  James clenched his jaw, and she bit his lip.

  "Play along, silver." Her words were no more than a whisper. The footsteps faded. The danger seemed to pass. She pulled back slightly, her breath warm against his lips. Her smirk was undeniable. "See? Fun."

  James swallowed the sharp retort on his tongue. Instead, he caught her wrist before she could fully step away, pinning her against the wall.

  Enough is Enough.

  "Your name." His voice was quieter now, rough around the edges. She stilled. Every inch of her stiffened like a deer, ready to bolt. For the first time since he met her, she hesitated. Then, just as quick as it came, the mask slipped back into place. She smiled, showing a little too many teeth.

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  "It’s Nera." She pulled free from his grip. "Now hurry up, Silver. We’ve got a friend to save."

  The corridor opened into a wider passage, the scent of rain and burning incense growing. James could hear muffled voices ahead, the clink of armor shifting, the low murmur of men waiting. The drums pounded louder now, each beat pulsing through him.

  “We’re close now.” Nera stopped first, lifting a hand. James stilled beside her, feeling like a drawn bowstring. She tilted her head, listening. "Three guards. No, four."

  James frowned. "How the hell can you hear..."

  A flicker of movement in the torchlight. A helmeted head rounded the corner. A voice barked a warning, metal scraping against leather. The corridor erupted into motion. James barely had time to raise his arms before the first guard lunged.

  Steel flashed forward. James twisted, the blade slicing close as he drove his elbow into the man’s face. The guard staggered, hand shooting up to a nose, pouring blood. James ripped a dagger from the guard's belt and buried it under the man’s ribs. A wet gasp. A gurgle of breath. Then the guard went limp, dead weight. James yanked the blade free, already moving, dodging the next attack.

  Nera moved like a shadow, her too-large sword a blur of steel in the torchlight. She ducked low, spinning past a spear thrust, and came up behind her attacker. With one clean slice, the man collapsed into two pieces, split down the middle. The third guard roared at his comrade being bisected, charging at her. He was fast. James didn't realize he was moving. His body was reacting before he thought. He caught the man’s wrist, redirecting the strike into a wall. The spear tip glancing off the stone. Then James drove his dagger deep into the guard’s armpit, just between the armor plates.

  The man screamed, dropping his spear. James grabbed his head and slammed it against the stone wall. Once. Twice. The skull cracked and broke beneath his hand; it felt like an overripe melon squished between his fingers. The body went limp.

  The last guard hesitated, eyes darting between the two of them. James could see the calculation, the fear. He turned to run. A dagger spun through the air, sinking deep into the side of his skull. He crumpled to the floor.

  Nera sighed, wiping blood from her blade onto one of the corpses.

  "Sloppy," she muttered. "That last one almost got away."

  James wiped his dagger clean against his pants. What was another blood stain? His body still hummed with the heat of battle. He closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing.

  "I would've handled it," he said under his breath.

  "Mm. If you say so." Nera hummed, stepping over a body. Tossing a small bag to James. He caught the scent of dried meat and fruit. His stomach did a somersault. James ripped open the small sack and inhaled the food, despite the gore on his fingers. He was so hungry. Soon, the bag was empty, and he crouched beside one of the corpses, resting a hand against the chest plate, still wet from rain.

  "We don’t have time to hide them," he said.

  "Then let’s get moving.” She gestured in the way the guards had come.

  The drums boomed louder. James stood. His energy returned, and the gnawing ache lessened to a deep throb. James checked his compass, and Nera's eyes widened at the sight of it. "Courtyard’s close."

  "Then let’s not keep them waiting, Silver." Nera held her sword at the ready. Her smirk had sharpened.

  The corridor split ahead, one path sloping downward into darkness, the other leading toward an archway lined with torches. The drums were deafening now, rolling like thunder, shaking the stone beneath their feet.

  James wiped blood from his grip, his fingers still slick. He forced himself to keep moving. To not look back towards the bodies.

  Max is close.

  Nera was already ahead, moving with that effortless grace, her too-large sword resting casually on her shoulder. She barely seemed winded. But she hadn’t been fighting hungry. James swallowed, the salty taste of the little bag of food already fading to memory.

  Thump.

  The stone trembled.

  James froze.

  Thump

  Nera stopped, too, her head tilting, brows pulling together in something almost like… concern.

  Thump

  Another tremor followed by a long, slow snort of breath. The torches flickered. The air shifted the stench of rot and decay washing over James. He turned just in time to see the massive shadow rising from the hallway behind them.

  Red eyes. Burning. Watching.

  "Oh, shit," Nera breathed.

  The creature stepped into the firelight. It was hulking, monstrous, and unnatural. A body of thick muscle and even thicker hair, topped with a bull's skull that was all wrong, twisted unnaturally, but in a way that his brain refused to comprehend, glowing sockets of flickering torchlight for eyes. It was too big, its proportions all wrong. Its jagged horns scraped the ceiling, and its elongated arms ended in wicked, curling claws. The battle axe in its grip looked too small for something that size.

  The creature of his nightmares, of the world beyond, had found him. His heart pounded against his chest, and cold sweat dripped down his neck.

  It let out a deep, rumbling growl, lowering its shoulders like a beast ready to charge.

  Then, it moved. Faster than the centaurs, faster than the satyrs, faster than Nera. James barely threw himself aside as the axe cleaved the air where he’d been standing. Stone shattered under the force, sending jagged shards in all directions.

  He felt the shards hit, little sharp edges cutting along his arms and chest. But the beast was already turning, the axe swinging again, this time to cleave James in two. It was too low to duck, too high to jump.

  “Fuck.” He screamed.

  But Nera was already moving. She ducked low, slipping under its swing, her sword flashing. Catching the incoming axe and diverting the momentum down into the ground.

  Crack.

  The blow sent more rocks exploding outward, but James was in one piece and moving. Rolling under the swing of a claw, his blade glancing off an arm the size of a small tree.

  Nera struck, a vicious cross swing up the handle of the axe. The blade bit into the flesh of the arm but barely sank in. The creature backhanded her away, her whole body rising with the force of the blow. James watched as Nera slammed into the ceiling with a crunch. Her body falling limply to the ground, she started to push herself up onto trembling hands and knees—

  The creature laughed and lashed out with a brutal kick. Nera twisted, catching the blow on crossed forearms, but the force sent her skidding back across the stone.

  James lunged for the opening, slashing his dagger across its exposed side. Trying to bring its attention back to him, Nera lay on the ground, breath coming in horribly familiar wet wheezes.

  The blade glanced off. James tried again, this time managing to cut a little deeper, but the dagger tip bent and snapped.

  "Why won't you bleed!" James barely had time to register the failure before a massive clawed hand slammed into his chest. The point of each wicked finger cut deep before his feet left the ground. He tried to twist to turn in the air. But, his back collided with stone. His skull rang. The world blurred for a second.

  "James!" He heard the scream. A dark blur with blond hair was leaping through the air, sword flying towards the creature's back.

  Thwack

  The creature had spun, catching Nera mid-leap. Swatting her from the air like you would a fly. James' ears were ringing. His ribs felt cracked or worse. But he forced himself upright, pain screaming through him. The taste of copper on his tongue. He spat bright red phlegm onto the ground. The creature was already turning back toward him, ignoring Nera.

  James staggered back, dagger still in his grip, mind firing in every direction. Nera was half slumped next to the wall, leaning on it for support. Crimson stained her blond hair.

  We can’t kill this thing.

  "Tsk." Nera’s voice cut through the chaos. She straightened, tightening her grip on her sword. Confidence rolled off her as she rolled her shoulders and smirked. "Guess we’re not winning this one.”

  "Nera—" James whipped toward her, but she was already moving.

  She lunged forward, her sword flashing high, then low, each cut hitting enough to draw a black ichor from the beast's flesh. Each strike forced the creature’s focus on her. When its red eyes locked on her, she pivoted, sprinting down the opposite corridor.

  "Hey, ugly! Think you can catch me?" She gave James a slow wink. “Catch you later, Silver.”

  The beast roared, its massive frame shifting after her. James’ stomach plunged. She was leading it away. While drums were growing quicker, a near constant vibration now.

  James didn’t have time to think.

  Hesitation spells death. The words came unbidden, and he turned, heart hammering, in rhythm with the drums, and sprinted toward the archway.