When I stepped into the next room, I was so afraid of running into a minidjinni that it took me around ten minutes to psych myself up. But I needn’t have been afraid. Instead of a minidjinni, I found myself in the Perfumed Prison.

  The Perfumed Prison was a room I never wanted to set foot in again, but here I was. The stench of wine and cheap perfume mingled with the cloying sweetness of incense, a nauseating combination that clawed at my nostrils. I remembered the layout all too well—walls lined with cells, each shrouded in thick fogs of vibrant colors: red, green, blue, and purple. The colors weren’t just for show. Red and green meant danger—arrow traps, poison, the works. Blue and purple? Supposedly safer, though nothing in Penance could really be called safe.

  The cells were closed but unlocked—a maddening temptation. Opening the wrong one could erupt the whole room into chaos. Monsters, traps... even forewarned I wouldn’t be prepared for what followed. The djinn had ensured that last time. Memories of his cackling laughter as Grendelblins swarmed the room made my skin crawl. But the cells also held relics—treasures too valuable to ignore—and somewhere in this cursed room was a hidden door, tied to the murals I’d deciphered before. It had nearly killed me last time, but it had also saved my life.

  My hand hovered over the red cell’s latch. If I triggered it, monsters would pour out. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Grendelblins were dangerous, but they were predictable. I could funnel them through the fog, use the room’s traps against them, and come out on top.

  Except... nothing happened.

  The latch clicked open, the cell door creaking wide, and I waited, muscles tense, for the Grendelblins to pour out. But the fog just hung there, unmoving, and the cell was empty.

  Then it hit me. The djinn was gone—locked away in his cursed lamp. No djinn, no influence, no monsters.

  “Of course,” I muttered, slamming the door shut. Without him, the Perfumed Prison was just a room of empty threats. Or was it? I glanced at the other cells, the lingering colors in the fog still warning me not to trust what I saw. Just because the djinn was gone didn’t mean this place wasn’t hiding something worse.

  I exhaled slowly, the tension in my shoulders loosening just a fraction. No Grendelblins meant fewer immediate threats, but it also meant I couldn’t use the chaos to my advantage. The Perfumed Prison might not be a death trap this time, but it was still a puzzle, and puzzles in Penance were rarely forgiving.

  My gaze shifted to the other cells. A few had treasure chests just visible through the swirling fog, their brass fittings gleaming faintly in the dim, perfumed light. My instincts screamed to open them, but I held back. Traps here were as likely as treasure, and without knowing what was inside—or if opening one might trigger something worse—I wasn’t about to risk it.

  I skirted the red and green cells, my steps cautious. The blue and purple cells seemed calmer, their fog less threatening, though no less dense. One purple cell, in particular, caught my eye, its mist shimmering faintly, almost inviting me closer.

  I pressed my hand against the door. Unlike the others, this one felt... different. A soft hum vibrated through the metal, almost imperceptible, but enough to make me pause. Something was definitely inside, and it wasn’t a chest.

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  Pushing the door open, I was met with a faint, warm glow cutting through the purple mist. I stepped inside, boots crunching on fine sand that hadn’t been visible from the outside. In the center of the room, a small, pale orb of Aerlyntium hovered just above the ground, its glow pulsing like a heartbeat.

  I reached out, hesitant but knowing what needed to be done. The moment my fingers brushed its surface, a pulse of energy shot through the chamber. The Aerlyntium flared to life, releasing a wave of shimmering light that spread outward in a rippling cascade. Everything—treasure chests, scattered debris, even the cloying fog—was drawn toward the orb, dissolving into glowing motes and vanishing into its core.

  The process was smooth, deliberate, and utterly predictable. No surprises—just the same old dance. The Aerlyntium didn’t destroy, it absorbed, preserving everything in stasis within my inventory, ready to be summoned when needed.

  “Still hungry, huh?” I muttered, watching the last of the red fog swirl into the Aerlyntium. The hum shifted, softening, and the orb’s light dimmed slightly before flickering once, twice—then vanishing entirely. A weight settled in my chest, the telltale sign that the Aerlyntium had successfully transferred to my inventory.

  Around the room, faint outlines began to materialize, just as I knew they would. A desk, a weapon rack, and shelves of supplies hovered in the air, their forms frozen in ghostly light. The kitchenette’s faint outline flickered to life, and then—the gaolers. Oh, the gaolers. Their armor gleamed in frozen time, unmoving for now. But I knew better than to trust stillness, if I placed them, I'd likely be in for a world of hurt.

  “Time to start putting things back together,” I said, running my fingers over the runes. The light rippled, and I could feel the Aerlyntium respond, the familiar pull of its magic guiding my choices. I scanned the room, my eyes landing on the gaolers one more time.

  “Not yet,” I muttered, skipping them.

  One by one, I activated the projections, their forms solidifying with soft flashes of light. The shelves filled themselves with food and tools, the desk reassembled with its clutter of papers and odd trinkets, and the faint hiss of the kettle on the stovetop brought a strange sense of normalcy to the space. Nodding my head at the job well done, I headed for the door.

  I stepped cautiously into the next room, every muscle in my body coiled tight. I was ready for the worst—a boss chamber, some hulking monstrosity waiting to tear me apart—but what I found was something entirely different. The air was warm, almost inviting, and the space was surprisingly small, no larger than the sewer entrance.

  I frowned. This room wasn’t here last time.

  The walls, dark and uneven, bore no markings of age or decay, as if they had only just been shaped. The scent of damp stone and something faintly floral clung to the air, a stark contrast to the dusty, dry heat of the other chambers. The longer I stood there, the more I was certain—this place had changed.

  My eyes fell on the centerpiece of the room: a bed.

  It stood alone in the middle of the room, perfectly made with a fluffy comforter and plump pillows that looked ridiculously out of place in this miserable hellhole. The sight of it immediately set me on edge. Nothing in Penance was ever this straightforward, let alone this comfortable.

  I took a slow step inside, my boots making no sound on the smooth stone floor. There was nothing else. No furniture, no chains, no sigils carved into the walls. Just the bed. Waiting.

  The air felt thick, pressing against my skin like unseen hands. The edges of the room blurred, the flickering light playing tricks on my tired mind. The humidity was almost suffocating now, curling around me in invisible tendrils, coaxing me forward. I rubbed my eyes, blinking hard.

  But the longer I stood there, the harder it became to hold on to my suspicion. The room was still, the air warm and soothing, and the faint light flickering off the damp walls made the bed look even more appealing. My legs felt like lead, and my eyes stung from exhaustion. The thought crept in before I could stop it: Maybe it’s just a bed. Maybe I could rest, just for a second.

  I took a step forward, almost against my own will. The air grew heavier, wrapping around me like a weighted blanket, and my limbs seemed to move on their own. Just a quick rest, I thought. Just five minutes to close my eyes. That’s all I need.

  My hand reached out, trembling, almost brushing against the soft folds of the comforter when a voice thundered through my head, shattering the fog clouding my thoughts.

  {FOOLISH. STEP BACK.}