“If it looks like all is lost, use it.”
The giant ghoul elder stared down at the charm, his face unreadable. Terry placed his hand over the ghoul’s, willing him to look up.
“All my life, I was surrounded by your people. My closest friend is a ghoul.” He felt the surprise radiate through Crimson Spear’s aura and nodded. “I know your people better than you might think. And I know the sense of duty is your guiding principle.” He tapped on the charm. “But surviving to shepherd your people into the next cycle of this world is your duty as well. Don’t throw away your life if you don’t have to.”
The ghoul’s face remained stoic, but he felt the consideration in Crimson Spear’s aura and pressed the advantage.
“The Bloodsplatter Clan need not die today.”
Before the ghoul could respond, Py—with Chippy in her arms—jogged over.
[Py Dar]: We’re done!
He nodded, turning back to Crimson Spear. But the ghoul had recognized the need to move and was off. As Terry surveyed the ghoul clan, he could feel Py and Chippy’s handiwork resonating through the dozens of spears held with borderline reverence in the ghouls’ hands.
[Terry]: Great job, both of you!
Chippy squeaked happily.
[Chialpuncritis]: And you, Terry? Were you able to finish your project without the superlative assistance of Chippy?
Terry laughed at that.
[Terry]: It was a near thing. Your help was sorely missed.
Ben came over, the grim set to his lips dampening the mood.
“You ready?”
It was a simple question, one he might have interpreted as referring only to them preparing to continue through the liminal layer. But he knew from the man’s tone that the question was as layered as the Underworld.
He wiped the smile from his face, matching his uncle’s taciturn expression.
“I’m ready.”
Ben seemed to study Terry’s face, perhaps looking for cracks in his composure. But Terry was no stranger to responsibility or risking his life. He met his uncle’s eyes, feeling his own golden magic begin to swirl through his irises.
After a moment, Ben seemed to find what he had been looking for. He nodded and the group took off together as a pulse of aura extended from Crimson Spear.
Terry took Chippy from Py’s arms and followed the ghoul procession down the rock ramp that looped along the chasm wall, taking them deeper through the liminal layer where they’d reach the bottom. Past that, the next layer of the Underworld awaited.
He purposefully kept his eyes off the surrounding chasm wall, not needing—or wanting—to see the thousands of sanguine that shadowed them through the liminal layer.
Put your head down and move your feet, Terry.
As Crimson Spear had mentioned, the chasm was only about a half mile from top to bottom. But that was as the rock fell. Taking the wrapping loop that hugged the outer wall greatly extended the journey, turning a half-mile descent into a multi-mile run into the depths of darkness.
He kept his attention on his foot placement and his aura stretching high into the sky. There was something comforting about that connection to the Surface, some reminder that the overwhelming weight of stone both above their heads and beneath their feet was not the extent of this world. Up there was sunlight. Up there was open air.
And soon, very soon, he’d see it again.
That connection was his lifeline, the driftwood he clutched to in the empty sea of darkness. He almost wasn’t prepared when Crimson Spear gave the signal.
As discrete aura shapes approached through the open air of the chasm on outstretched wings, a pulse of power rippled throughout the ghoulish party.
He started in mid-stride, completing that connective thread with a sluggish thought. A series of portals began chaining across the chasm air, starting from the top and working down in sequence.
And with it, came the brilliant sunlight of the Surface, piercing the inky black like an angel’s descent.
All around them, shrieks of terrible pain crescendoed, stabbing into his ears so painfully he was forced to drop Chippy just to cover them.
In his initial flinch, he had slammed shut his eyes. But logic overrode instinct and he peeled his eyelids back, taking in the sight that accompanied that horrific sound.
Thousands of swirling bodies plummeted through the air, their gliding flight cut short by the sunlight sapping their strength and burning their flesh. One flying sanguine darted toward them in a futile last act, its flesh blackening before his very eyes.
When it ultimately collapsed into the rock wall above their heads, a rain of ash drifted down toward them, coating their heads and shoulders in grey-black soot.
But not all the sanguine burned. He spotted dozens of fliers continuing their gliding descent, the sun having no hold over their flesh.
This was not unexpected.
Sanguine elite, bathed in the Blood of the Mother over and over again, their skin hardened against both silver and sunlight. As they arced toward the fleeing ghouls, a command echoed out from Crimson Spear.
As one, the ghouls with their newly-enhanced spears turned and faced the diving onslaught, angling their weapons to meet them. Flashes of aura lit up across the ghouls, overwhelming his senses as the ambient currents were disturbed.
With a pulse from Crimson Spear, the ghouls activated their new enhancements, and a wave of spears shot toward the sanguine. Where bone and metal met flesh, flesh was eviscerated. The dying shrieks of the scorched vampires were replaced with the new cries of their elite brethren as they were pin-cushioned by a wall of flying spears.
Terry watched in both morbid and academic curiosity as the spears impaled the sanguine and continued past to their designated flight distance, then suddenly averted their momentum and raced back toward their owners.
It was a devastating volley that culminated in the elite wave of sanguine drifting to the chasm floor, dead or dying, and the ghouls clutching their returned spears with obvious reverence.
In the aftermath, the fading shrieks of the falling elites and the soot marks marring the chasm walls were all the evidence that remained of the thousand strong ambush that had begun less than a minute earlier.
A moment passed, stretched into two, then three. When the silence broke, it was Chippy chirping in triumph at Terry’s feet. Py joined in a moment later, her four hands clapping together. A wave of disbelief seemed to wash over the ghouls, tamped down by a pulse of aura from Crimson Spear.
“Move!” he called out to Ben and Terry, echoing the command with his aura.
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[Terry]: We gotta move.
Chippy leaped into Py’s arms and they raced to follow the ghouls as they continued their descent to the next layer.
Brilliant sunlight still streamed down upon them, but struggled to illuminate the very bottom of the chasm. In the dim light, Terry could see the outline of the sanguine elite, their bodies dashed to the chasm floor.
He could leave the portals open as they moved to the next layer—it would ensure they weren’t ambushed from above as they continued their descent. But he knew from Crimson Spear that the sanguine’s strength was in their practically limitless numbers. They proliferated rapidly by undead standards and decades with unfettered access to the Blood of the Mother had only accelerated that growth rate.
Crimson Spear hadn’t talked hard numbers, but Terry got the impression that there were only a handful of nearby ghoul clans, probably numbering in the low thousands if the Bloodsplatter Clan was anything to go by.
The sanguine would have millions standing between them and the wellspring of the Blood. Too many to punch through with sheer strength—enhanced spears or not.
Which was why they had come up with their next part of the plan.
When they finally reached the bottom of the liminal layer, the air noticeably chilled, causing him to shiver. For a moment, he thought that the Underworld would continuously drop in temperature and he would need to utilize Master of Light to maintain his body temp.
Then he saw the draugr drifting across the bottom of the chasm, dispatching the injured sanguine elite with casual strength.
The cold was because of them.
Another shiver traced up his back—not due to the cold.
He pushed them from his mind, wrapping his team in Master of Light to keep their heat contained. Stopping beside Crimson Spear and Ben, he felt his stomach twist at the thought of what came next.
“I shall pass to you the path I traveled when we were first exiled. It is not the fastest, nor the safest. But it is the only one I have personally witnessed that connects to the Mother.”
Terry nodded, steeling his mind. This was the part that had been his idea and yet…he dreaded splitting the group. Though he knew that his Quest indicated the team would be stronger together, he couldn’t in right mind ask Chippy, Py, Juan, or Mara-Lin-Jaid to join them on what could very likely be a suicide mission. Their strengths weren’t in combat and they’d be better positioned where the Bloodsplatter Clan could defend them.
He touched Crimson Spear’s outstretched hand, feeling the ghoul elder’s powerful aura interacting with his own. They began to intermingle, like the greeting shape but even more intimate. He opened his own aura, letting the memories flash across his mind like a collage.
The Underworld stretched before his eyes, seven layers driven deep into the world’s crust. His perspective shifted, showing him the final layer where the Blood of the Mother oozed from dozens of fonts. All the great powers of the Underworld once shared those fonts, as the Blood was plentiful and essential to the undead castes.
He saw those fonts dry up, turning into the barest trickles, and then, even less. Skirmishes turned to wars as the limited resource began to cap the birthrate of the various undead.
Crimson Spear appeared in his mind, forced to abandon the Lakarot’s vessel as sanguine and ghoul alike converged on the Bloodsplatter Clan’s home. Shame and anger burned inside Terry as his elder bade him to flee to the Surface with what little of their clan he could save.
Righteous fury gave way to soul-encompassing embarrassment. He was forced to flee as their defenses crumbled, taking only ten sarcophagi of the Blood with them as they climbed the layers.
As they rose from the seventh to the sixth layer, they lost half of their stash—and dozens of ghoul lives. The climb to the fifth heralded another sarcophagus lost. And another in the fight to the fourth.
By the time they reached the Surface, they possessed only two sarcophagi of the Blood and their numbers had been whittled down to less than two hundred ghouls and five liches.
Terry felt the weight of this responsibility as if it were his own. A shame burned inside his chest, threatening to suffocate him.
But then, the visions twisted, showing Ben arriving with meat when they needed it most. Years passed and the clan settled into a routine of attrition. Crimson Spear never lost hope—not entirely—but he had let himself become complacent.
He had only realized it after the Lakarot had found its way into Ben’s hands. Terry could feel the fervor in that single moment, the unassailable surety that the Mother had orchestrated another chance.
And chosen Crimson Spear to facilitate its return.
In every sense of the word, the ghoul elder was ready to martyr himself for even the chance of returning what was stolen. It wasn’t about his legacy or restoring the Bloodsplatter Clan to its glory days.
It was the very survival of the undead at stake.
The wash of emotions began to fade as Crimson Spear pulled his aura back, but a kernel of that shame and righteous purpose remained, infecting Terry with a need almost as powerful as the ghoul elder’s to return the Lakarot to its rightful home.
When they separated, he locked eyes with Crimson Spear. No words were needed—the ghoul had already shared his deepest and truest self. All Terry could do was nod his understanding.
Crimson Spear turned away without another word and Terry felt a flush of pride at the trust that imparted. Ben had felt the exchange, though Terry doubted he’d witnessed the raw emotion. All the same, he understood that it was time to move.
As the ghouls prepared to descend into the next layer the hard way, Terry felt along that path he had witnessed in Crimson Spear’s mind. The layers were deep, many miles in sharp contrast to the liminal layers which were roughly half a mile.
Though he would have preferred to simply bypass the layers entirely and teleport right where they needed to be, the strain coupled with the fact that he’d only see the locations in Crimson Spear’s aura, made that impossible.
He reached through space now, tracing that path in his mind, reaching for the next layer down. There was a spot in the ghoul’s memory—a small alcove branching from the main path that had been obscured by a sheet of rock stretching across its entrance.
He stretched his aura, going more on instinct—Crimson Spear’s instinct, really—and felt like he found that particular alcove at the end of his range. With a flex of aura, he bridged space, a blue-white portal cutting through the air before him.
Rather than step through immediately, he sent his aura through, getting a sense for the space beyond. He felt around, gauging the space, and was confident he hadn’t inadvertently opened a portal into solid rock or over a yawning chasm. He turned to Ben, who had a questioning look in his eyes, and nodded.
Ben stepped through without hesitation, sending a message a moment later signaling the all clear.
Terry moved to follow when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned to look up into Al’Ruzan’s yellow eyes.
[Al’Ruzan, third of his name]: I will follow. You may need my blade.
He smiled, not willing to admit he was happy to have the Duelist with them. With a nod, he indicated the portal and Al’Ruzan stepped through.
To the side, Juan, Chippy, and Py looked over in surprise—and possibly a bit of hurt.
[Terry]: You guys will be safe with the ghouls. They promised to protect you. And I’m sure the two of you can work some additional spear upgrades while I’m gone.
He tried to smile but it felt flat on his face. Chippy and Py gave each other a look he couldn’t read, but seemed like they wouldn’t argue.
Juan, however, stepped forward.
“Terry, bro, let me come with you. I can fight!”
Terry sighed, stepping toward the man.
“I know you can Juan.” He nodded toward the flame cupped in Juan’s hands. “The Bloodsplatter Clan will need you.” He lowered his voice. “Chippy and Py will need you. The ghouls won’t understand that the two of them can’t fight. Someone will have to watch their back…”
He could see Juan’s resolve to follow him wavering. The man glanced back toward Chippy and Py, biting his lip in thought. When he turned back, he gave a short nod.
Terry slapped a hand on his shoulder.
“And as big as a pain in the ass she is, Mara-Lin-Jaid will need you—”
He cut off as the woman in question strode toward the portal in his peripheral vision. He whirled around to call her name, but before he could react, she was through, the portal tugging on his aura in response.
“Dammit,” he hissed.
He rushed forward, stepping through his portal—closing it for good measure in case Juan got any silly ideas.
The cave on the other side was a tight fit, the four of them pressed shoulder to shoulder in the dark.
“Mara, what the hell do you think you’re doing!”
A moment later, he realized she didn’t speak English and sent her a System chat.
[Terry]: Mara, what are you doing!
She didn’t immediately reply, so he cast Master of Light to brighten the dark enough to see her.
Her eyes were closed, a placid expression on her face. He reached out and gripped her shoulder. She snapped her eyes open, the calm immediately replaced with an annoyed scowl.
“Mara!” he started, then growled as he realized he’d done it again.
[Terry]: I’m sending you back right now.
Her voice cut across the silent cave, shocking him still.
“Mara-Lin-Jaid.”
His brain was slow to realize she’d said it out loud. The shock of her words struck him dumb for a moment, but when his thoughts caught up, he couldn’t help but notice her accent was exotic, a different emphasis put on the syllables of her name than he might have thought.
[Mara-Lin-Jaid]: If you must abbreviate my name, it would be Jaid. Mara is my mother.
The System message snapped him back into awareness of the moment.
“Okay, Mara-Lin-Jaid.” He tried and failed to keep the annoyed sarcasm from his voice.
[Terry]: I’ll ask again. What do you think you’re doing?
“Terry,” Ben’s voice cut through the tight cave. “We don’t have time for this. Crimson Spear and his people are buying us a distraction with their lives.”
“One second,” he replied, turning to stare into Mara-Lin-Jaid’s eyes. Without blinking, he opened another portal back to where they had come from.
She flicked her gaze toward it dismissively.
[Mara-Lin-Jaid]: I’m staying.
He growled, waving toward her in annoyance.
“She won’t go.”
“Fine,” Ben said. “Let her come. If she slows us down, that’s on her.”
Terry wrinkled his nose at the casual statement but couldn’t find any other way that didn’t involve forcing her through the portal like a child.
[Mara-Lin-Jaid]: I saw this, Terry. I’m supposed to be here.
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Her visions seemed awfully convenient when it came to getting her way.
[Terry]: Okay, but I can’t promise your safety. And if you slow us down, we’ll be forced to leave you.
[Mara-Lin-Jaid]: I understand.
He shrugged, turning toward Ben.
“I guess she’s staying. I’m gonna start reaching for the next waypoint.”
Ben nodded, his eyes searching the cave, his aura tracing the gap that led outside the alcove.
Terry pushed Mara-Lin-Jaid from his mind and began stretching his aura deeper into the Underworld, searching for that next stop he’d seen in Crimson Spear’s aura.
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