We descended into the catacombs of the reliquary, with me leading the group as planned. Lubina stayed close to Brother Granvich, but neither of them strayed more than five feet from me. The great, spiraling stairs plunged deep into the earth, proving exhausting and endless. Pressure built in my ears and nose every twenty feet or so, and the air quickly turned cool and stagnant.

  But toward the end of the staircase, the air shifted. First, it warmed, then it became thick. I wasn't the only one who felt the corruption of the profane.

  "This is not merely air now, False Leper. It is a miasma," Granvich said.

  "I noticed it as well. Your reliquary has been desecrated; the very air is polluted and rotten."

  "It smells like a swamp has leaked inside," Lubina added, pinching her nose.

  I stopped suddenly as I stepped forward, expecting another stone step, but found water instead. Lubina was not entirely wrong, it seemed. As we passed into the entry of the catacombs, the walls were covered in lichen and roots, and sad-looking trees, resembling willows, sprouted through the collapsing stones above. Lilypads and cattails littered the water, rippling under my intrusive foot. It did not just smell like a swamp; it was one.

  "How could all of this have grown? There's no sunlight," Lubina asked, glancing at Granvich. I, too, sought his wisdom, as any brother of Saint Olovf would surely understand the botanical workings of this place better than anyone else.

  "This is beyond my expertise. The girl is right. Even in the western swamps, where the canopy reduces sunlight, the plants succumb to entropy in a totality of darkness."

  That was not the explanation I—nor Lubina—had hoped for. It left only one possibility, one that Granvich and I instinctively understood but refrained from voicing to spare the child. We had no choice but to lead her into danger; without her nearby, we could not protect her, and children make easy targets for the vile creatures that slither and lurk in our world. We continued onward, the water wading halfway up our calves.

  "Where is this relic supposed to be?" I inquired.

  Granvich paused as we reached an intersection of overgrown hallways, calmly swiveling his torch to regain his bearings. "The layout seems unchanged... for now. We must go right through to the treasury. It was built to confuse and deflect the truth of this place, should robbers gain entry—a diversion to satisfy their greed and keep them from searching for the false door to the reliquary."

  "Then right we shall go. Clever thinking, indeed," I complimented.

  Granvich smiled, "On behalf of the order, I thank you, my old friend."

  Just as we began trudging down the halls, Lubina grew curious, "What's down the left, then?"

  "Down the left?" Granvich parroted, "I... hm. I haven't any idea, truthfully. As I said, it has been some decades since last I checked on the relic with my own eyes. At the time, I wished not to sour this holy place with my presence, so I made quick work of my task and did not loiter."

  "But what if whatever is making the swamp is living down there? Maybe it's been there since the beginning, and no one ever noticed."

  I raised a brow and stopped, looking back to Lubina. I was admittedly impressed with her thoughts, especially compared to the traumatized silence and vengeful fits of violence. Perhaps, I thought, this was good for her. To be engaged. To keep her mind away from what was undoubtedly the real horror—her family's fate. For Lubina, the horror creeping into this holy place was nothing, not after being forced to use the gore of your loved ones to hide from growling, slobbering imps.

  "Now that I think of it, the False Leper's blade matches quite well with the scenery, doesn't it?" Granvich admitted.

  I looked down at my scabbard, the strange vines on its hilt, and the fragmented eruptions of bark that now smothered the glimpses of gilded iron underneath it. I felt that Saint Olovf willed the weapon into existence in my moment of desperation, and he is oft associated with the wilds, greenery, herbology, and the like. With a thumb green enough, perhaps a man could turn metal into bark so robust it shames even Delm'ri steel.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  "We should continue. The entry to the reliquary must be closed by now." Granvich and Lubina nodded in agreement, and we continued along the path. Not long thereafter, we arrived in the treasury, where the old chests and piles of gold had been overcome with mud and stuck together to form an eerie mound. The water deepened as we approached, and I motioned for Granvich and Lubina to stay and be silent.

  I drew my sword and waded deeper into the water, and as it reached my stomach, I felt something beneath in the dark, murky depths graze the back of my thigh.

  "Run!" I yelled before some unknown monstrosity wrapped tightly around my legs and pulled me suddenly and with great force into the water. I hadn't even had the chance to breathe nor gauge what direction the monster had come from. My head hit the stone at the bottom, and I gripped my sword tightly while desperately scratching at the floor with my free hand as I was dragged away.

  I could see the water shimmering and waving as Granvich plunged into the deeper water in search of me. Too disoriented to determine where the main body of my assailant was, I decided to harm myself, hoping for a release. I knew some sort of tendril or tail was wrapped about my thighs and squeezing them, so I aimed my sword as best I could and stabbed. The first stab missed, pushing the tip of the blade just an inch deep into my thigh. On the second attempt, my aim was true, and I felt the tautness of the restricting appendage lax.

  I erupted from the surface as its horrid squealing radiated through the water. When I emerged, Granvich grabbed tightly onto my shoulders to settle me.

  "Above!" Lubina yelled. Her finger stretched out toward the mound, where a two-headed beaver stalked us from atop it. The beaver's fur was interlaced with scales, and its sickly, vibrant yellow teeth were grown in jagged, spiked arrangements no longer designed for the felling of trees but for the severing of limbs. The flat tail had been hacked to its base, creating a flailing mess of leathery tendrils that whipped furiously without cause.

  "Your blood will consecrate this place," the creature burbled out as I moved between it and my companions.

  "What knows a demon of consecration? What greater god could you ever serve?" I demanded.

  "A new god, born from the eviscerated innards of a mother and made from the seed of her unwanted communion. You know her well more than I."

  I howled in anger, knowing well the answer to my question that followed, "What is her name?"

  It slobbered the words manically to me, "Azrealiya, our queen; our wet nurse; our purpose."

  I slowly waded closer to the creature as I stalled to divert its attention, "Where is she? Where is my sister?"

  "She is where you seek, festering our righteous brood in Garivansk. That drunkard, ignorant fool leading the city has no clue he's created the perfect nest for us."

  "Bishop Rysk? A drunkard? You speak vile lies." Granvich declared.

  "It matters not what words may mean now, monk," the creature hissed as it slowly began climbing down the slope of the mound toward us. "You will be feces in this water in a few hours."

  The fierce tails of the creature whipped forward as it lept upon us with all the strength its withered, webbed feet could manage. One of the tips caught Granvich and pierced through his upper arm, severing the muscle and tearing cleanly through to the other side. I swung my blade down against it, and once it was separated from him, I pushed him down into the water.

  "Lubina, run! I said run!" I shouted as my sword and the creature engaged. In all the terror of the combat, I could not hear anything but our duel. I had to know the girl was okay, and so when an opening presented itself, I looked just for a moment over my shoulder to see her paralyzed in fear.

  The creature took advantage of my concern and rapidly closed the gap between us before overtaking me and forcing me beneath the water. I struggled against it, each blow forcing my lungs to blow out, only for the release of its paws to force water into my lungs. I began to drown, stabbing and slashing unwieldy against the monster. Luck had been on my side, and one of my wild strikes struck the fatty sack protecting its throat.

  The monster recoiled, giving me only a few seconds to stand and continue my advance. But it was not needed, for when I stood and readied my blade, a great beam of light passed through the neck of the beast without resistance. I looked to the left where it came from.

  Lubina stood, her eyes blackened with the fluids of sorcery, her fingertips burnt, and her nails cracked and peeled away. She began to fall over, and Granvich hurried through the water to catch her.

  Heaving through my exhaustion, I demanded of my monastic friend, "Where is the door, Granvich?" He gave no response, his mind focused intently on the unconscious girl who had just saved my life—and undoubtedly his as well. He only pointed toward a series of loose stones: twice left, once forward, once right, once forward. I followed this pattern as ordained, and the false door promised by Brother Granvich slid back from the wall and vanished.

  Inside the hidden space was only one thing. There was no relic staff, no blessed scythe, no great holy trinket. There was only shattered glass, its contents replaced with a single piece of silver lovok minted by the Gilded Iron Company.