An ancient resonance shifted through the rock as if the Abyss itself were alive and restless. The sounds rolled down the tunnel like a warning. Low and relentless, echoing in the claustrophobic darkness. Beneath it, faint and persistent, was the scratching–like nails on parchment. It was distant, but everywhere at once, trailing them through the passageways. They searched for any sense of direction, Sable leading the way.

  Urgar’s limp was loud. His slumber had healed the brunt of his injuries, but his boot scuffed and dragged along the uneven stone floor. It was a half-healed reminder of Mitch’s decision. The dwarf mumbled curses with each painful step, his voice bouncing off the glowstones that speckled the walls.

  Warrick brought up the rear, his heavy footfalls muted but watchful. The orc scanned the shadows with a hawk’s vigilance. Mitch felt the tension against his back, suspicious eyes watching his every move. He didn’t blame the orc.

  Mitch had his own eyes. The mice he controlled with Dominion of Shadows scurried in shadows, watching for threats.

  The tunnel widened, and a small cavern opened before them. It ended in a split path. The dim, unnatural glow of the Abyss washed over the walls, casting sharp shadows. Sable slowed, her grip tight on her worn map, brow furrowing. “This…doesn’t make sense.”

  “Again? We’re still lost.” Mitch’s voice was a murmur.

  Sable shook her head. “This…shouldn’t be here. It’s nowhere on the map,” Her voice was tight, edged with confusion. “Where are we?”

  Ahead of them, carved into stone, was an ominous marking—a crude hourglass etched into the rock face. The sand in the upper portion appeared full, ready to spill, but frozen in time. Beneath the hourglass, a single word was carved in stone, hauntingly clear: Choices.

  A deep resonance rolled through Mitch, like a thread of memory trying to resurface. He could feel something. It was a rush of pride. A distant familiarity with the carved symbol as his body remembered it.

  “The Masked Lord's mark,” Sable confirmed.

  His fingers curled tightly around the soul sword’s hilt.

  Did I serve the Masked Lord in another life? My body knows that symbol.

  Warrick grunted from behind. “If he’d only succeeded,” the orc muttered, his gaze locked on the hourglass with an unreadable look.

  “Yeah, well,” Sable snapped, glancing at Urgar’s leg, “he didn’t.” She turned away, her voice lowering. “And now look where we are…”

  “Bah,” Urgar spat on the ground. “Ain’t nobody stands a chance against the Abyss.”

  They stepped toward the fork. Two paths opened before them: one veering sharply upwards. A brutal vertical climb. The other a dark, sloping descent that yawned like some ancient beast.

  The air along the lower path pulsed faintly with a warmth. An ominous welcome against the frigid temperature of the Abyss. Mitch could feel the pull, something in him whispering that it was where he needed to go.

  Warrick’s voice cut through, breaking the silence. “Nothing good ever comes from going down.”

  Urgar shifted, favoring his good leg, and grimaced. “My leg ain’t up to the climb.” He motioned toward the downward path. “Besides, it’s warm down there. Better ‘an snapping my leg.”

  Mitch felt the sense of purpose solidifying, the downward path calling to him. Sable watched him, catching the flicker of determination in his gaze before turning back to her map with a resigned frown.

  She sighed. “Fine. If we don’t know where we’re going, down it is.”

  They began their descent. The darkness pressed around them thicker than before, the glowstones even more sparse, the scratching now echoing with each step.

  Somewhere behind them, Mitch heard the faint echo of a stone grinding. It was a slow, heavy sound that made his skin crawl. None of the others seemed to notice.

  Mitch felt it in his bones. Something was watching, and waiting. Rex growled in his mind.

  The tunnel abruptly opened into a larger chamber. Jagged rock formations jutted out of the ground like fangs, casting menacing shadows across the cavern’s floor. A stale, choking heat rolled over them. Mitch tasted old rusted iron and decay.

  And then–slam.

  A massive stone slab crashed down behind them, sealing off the exit with a finality that vibrated through the rock and into Mitch’s body. It was so severe that he felt a miniscule pulse from Agony’s Embrace harden his body.

  “Stars, I hate this place.” Warrick said, squaring up in a fighting stance. Everyone gazed around the sealed chamber.

  Mitch’s eyes scanned the room. The walls started to shift, solid rock morphing and rippling like liquid. Shadows detached from the walls, forming into twisted figures.

  Golems emerged from the walls. Their bodies detached from the stone, massive and monstrous. Brutal amalgamations of rock and what appeared to be sinew. Hunched and malformed. Their arms were grotesquely long, ending in clawed hands that scraped the stone floor as they moved. Each face was hollow, carved chasms of darkness with faint purple orbs where eyes should be, shining with malevolence.

  Veins of purple energy pulsed through their rocky skin like arteries, casting twisted glows around them. Each step was accompanied by a deep, resonant growl that reverberated through the chamber, shaking loose bits of stone from above.

  The golems moved forward in stuttering, unnatural lurches. Reanimated by some vile magic, held together by the pulsing veins of Abyssal energy.

  Sable moved first, metal wires shooting from her hands in a whiplash of silver. They wrapped around the body of the closest golem, biting into the stone with a metallic shriek. She gritted her teeth and pulled her hand closed. The wires tightened, grinding against the purple veins. The golem struggled, and she held it tight, forcing it to stagger to a halt.

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  “Got you,” Sable muttered, twisting her wrists. She mentally wrenched the wires tighter, sending cracks spreading through the golem’s body.

  Mitch surged forward, souls humming with dark energy as he swung the soul sword in a brutal arc. It connected with the wrapped golem, cleaving into its rock torso with a crack. Purple energy seeping from the wound like corrupted blood. His increased strength came in handy, and he swung again, crushing further into the creature. He held his Dominion of Shadows back, knowing that bugs and mice were useless against these creatures.

  Warrick phased in next to him, form flickering like a shadow. He appeared and slammed his gauntletted fists into its torso with brutal force. Stone cracked and shattered under the collective blows as each pounded the creature with vicious precision. Warrick’s gaze flickered toward Mitch, suspicion tainting his eyes even amidst their battle.

  Urgar charged toward a second golem, grimacing as his bad leg dragged. Despite it, he moved with surprising agility. Sable’s wires shot out again from her hands and wrapped around one of the golem’s arms. Urgar dodged under one of the creature’s massive swings, narrowly avoiding its clawed fist.

  With a swift turn, the dwarf swung his giant war axe into its shoulder, the blade biting into stone with a crunch. The golem staggered, and Urgar rolled back, movements nimble despite his limp. “Gettin’ too old for this,” he muttered, ducking out of the way of another attack. He hadn’t ignited Forgeheart during the battle but didn’t seem to need it.

  Across the chamber, Mitch left Warrick to finish the golem they had been tag teaming to lock eyes with another lumbering towards him. Its arms were outstretched, the hollow voids of its face somehow expressing a primal hunger. He steadied himself. The golem swung a jagged fist; but Mitch didn’t flinch; instead, he took the hit, letting the impact slam into his shoulder.

  The shock reverberated through his body, blood pounding in his ears. Agony’s Embrace flared, the wave of pain transforming into raw strength. He sheathed his soul sword across his back. Rex sent an inquisitive ping to his mind.

  “Yep, definitely some anger to let out,” he muttered to himself, a dark grin stretching across his face.

  Mitch took a step forward and drove his shoulder into the golem’s torso, fists slamming into the creature with brutal power. With a roar, he pushed the golem back. He swung and connected. Every strike powered by the furious energy flowing through him. For the decisions he had been forced to make. For what was being done to him. His core souls thrummed in unison as he struck.

  For a moment, he was about to activate Devoid, but didn't.

  This I want to feel.

  Stone cracked, revealing seeping purple energy. Mitch focused on its face, staggering the golem and kept pounding. He felt his fists break under the pressure of his own hits, striking and taking the feeble swings of the Golem until it began to crumple apart. The veins of energy within it sputtered with a faint hiss.

  Finally, after countless hits, the golem fell apart in a heap of rock. Mitch straightened, breaking heavily, and caught Warrick’s sidelong glare as the orc stood over his own dead golem. Looking down, Mitch saw his broken, split hands.

  Immediately, he pulled flesh from his Vault with Agony’s Embrace and healed them. His fingers made a satisfying crunch as they straightened. Reaching again, he felt there was no soul within the golem. Just a very dense, strong puppet.

  Rex sent a pout of dissatisfaction to Mitch’s mind–no bodies to consume.

  Relax. We’ll get you another.

  Mitch flexed his fingers, savoring the ache that lingered before his hands fully healed. The catharsis of breaking the creature had smothered his frustration for a moment. It left him feeling lighter. It wasn’t a resolution, but it was a release–a brief reprieve from the decisions looming over him.

  He caught Sable’s eyes measuring him, the barest hint of admiration gleaming there before she masked it.

  “Impressive, Mitch,” she said, her voice a mix of awe and caution.

  “Needed to let off some steam,” he said, meeting her gaze. Behind her, he saw Urgar still fighting the last golem.

  “Oy! Can we finish this?” Urgar bellowed, rolling. His axe gleamed with streaks of purple energy, lunging with vigor.

  Sable whipped around and fired wire around the golem’s legs, securing it. Urgar’s axe came down, splintering the creature’s head with a final crunch.

  Mitch watched as Urgars axe bit deep, splitting the golem’s head in a resounding crunch. It finally crumbled into dust and shards. A silence fell, broken only by the sound of heavy breaths and the persistent parchment scratching. The dwarf spun his axe in a flare and turned to the rest of his squad, grinning through his black beard.

  “You like that, eh?” The dwarf winked at them.

  The immediate threat was gone, but the oppressive weight of the room wasn’t letting up. Instead, it felt like it had coiled around even tighter.

  Warrick dusted off his knuckles, a strange look flashing access his face as he glanced at Mitch. “Don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that,” he said, tone caught somewhere between grudging respect and something darker. “You fight like a damned demon, every time.”

  “Demon, angel–doesn’t matter as long as it gets us out of here whole,” Urgar replied with a tired laugh, propping himself up on his axe and leaning heavily. His leg looked fine, Mitch noted.

  Sable surveyed the room, the edge of tension visible in the line of her jaw. “This isn’t over yet,” she surmised, eyes fixated on something beyond the rubble of a golem.

  Tremors grew underfoot, resonance echoing through the chamber. Purple light cracked the ground as the ground continued to rumble.

  Rising from the dust of the last golem was a pulsating stone. Large as a boulder, gleaming like dark amethyst. Veins of Abyssal energy radiated outward from its core in sharp lines, pulsing in a rhythm that appeared disturbingly alive.

  The glow deepened, bathing the room in a sickly purple hue. An instinctual unease washed over Mitch.

  Something inside him stirred as it reacted to the stone’s energy.

  That’s not a good sign.

  “Watch out!” Sable shouted, diving to the side. Tendrils of purple energy shot out from the stone like lighting. The room was illuminated in blinding light. The tendrils were fast, ruthless. They shot out from the stone and grabbed hold of bodies, wrapping around them tightly.

  One by one, each of the squad members was lifted into the air. They were tied to the rock by the Abyssal energy. Except for Mitch.

  Something quickly grew around the energy strings. Purple energy pulsed from the stone, the tendrils transforming where they met flesh. They encased the squad members in purple light.

  They were trapped mid-air in bubbles of translucent Abyssal energy. Tied by purple lightning to the stone in the center of the room.

  Mitch barely had time to react. He watched helplessly as Sable’s hands clawed against the barrier, her face twisted in frustration. Urgar cursed, swinging his axe futilely against his containment, while Warrick’s defiant gaze burned into Mitch from behind the energy wall as he failed to phase out.

  He searched his body, but no tendril was attached to him. He stood alone, open mouthed and staring at his floating squad.

  “Mitch, get out of here!” Sable’s voice was muffled, barely audible through the barrier. Her eyes met his, wide with shock and a hint of desperation. “Don’t let it take you too!”

  But before he could move, a scrap of parchment appeared. It hovered just in front of his face, suspended in the air as if by invisible threads. His stomach twisted as he reached for it. Opening it, the message was written in blood.

  His chest dropped, a feeling of dread sinking into his bones. His veins turned to ice as he stared at the suspended squad. Trapped in the bubbles, trapped in the room.

  “That’s why the marking said ‘Choices’”.