Mitch groaned as almost-to-hot water cascaded down his back, soothing muscles that had been tense for what felt like eternity. There wasn’t any soap, but that didn’t matter. It had been far too long since his last shower. Abyssal Vault might have siphoned the blood and viscera into his core, but the grime of the Ahyss–the clinging dirt and the weight of its filth–remained. Now, at last, it was washing away.

  When the brass shower fittings in the sprawling bathroom turned on immediately after a long nap, he’d almost cheered. Wherever the water came from, he didn’t care. It was clean, and it was his.

  The first place the squad had explored was the winding second floor. Looking upward, Mitch had caught glimpses of several more levels stretching high above, not to mention the massive, high-ceilinged first floor. The Estate was a labyrinth of dark beauty, its mysteries pulling at the edges of his memory. But for now, the pull to explore could wait. He needed to breathe. And clean himself.

  Long, meticulously carved black stone hallways lined with red rugs leg to dozens of living quarters on the second floor. Mitch had claimed the largest room at the end of the hallway. Without protest, the others had dispersed, closing their doors for some much needed rest and solitude. Even Varak had skittered off with her brood to settle down in a small room. No one had commented when Patty dragged a stammering Leonard into one of the rooms.

  So far? Mitch thought, and had felt a pang of disappointment when Sable had claimed the room on the complete opposite end of the hallway.

  Rex settled into the massive, too-soft bed in the sleeping quarters. The Shadowshroud, who loathed water, curled his dark frame on the dusty mattress, his single eye closed. Mitch felt the ever present leash connection between them, but this was the first time he had truly been alone in weeks. Galadrith lay silent on a sturdy wooden desk, muttering something about needing to “mull over these developments” before falling silent.

  Mitch turned off the scalding water. He stepped out, naked and dripping, onto the black marble floor. Padding back into the bedroom, he took it all in.

  His bedroom. Somehow, his body’s instincts confirmed it. The space was his. It felt like settling into an old, well-worn chair–familiar and intimate, yet completely out of place. It was strange, but Mitch let the feeling wash over him like the water had.

  For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, he allowed himself to fully exhale.

  Mitch crossed the room to a massive wooden closet carved with the intricate, swirling patterns that adorned the Estate. He pulled open the doors, and a dusty scent wafted out. Inside, rows of clothes hung on rusted iron bars, the fabrics faded but intact. Shirts, pants, and long coats of strange styles hung in shades of black, gray, and deep red. They belonged to another time, another life.

  There were no windows in any of the quarters, only a bright glowstone embedded into the ceiling. It cast the spaces in steady light, and Mitch had already could the small metal dial near the door. When turned, the glow dimmed, then brightened again as he adjusted the dial.

  A low growl from Rex pulled Mitch’s attention back. His shadowy companion single eye watched him, and Mitch raised an eyebrow as he reached for a shirt. “What now?” he asked aloud, holding it up. “If you have to be nothing but armor, can you at least let me wear this?”

  Rex’s tongue lolled out in what might have been a dog’s version of a laugh, but the growl softened. A moment later, the Shadowshroud zipped from his comfortable lounging to Mitch’s frame through their connection. With a sensation that was almost playful, Rex shifted, and molded himself across Mitch’s torso into a comfortable T-shirt.

  “Much better, Rex,” Mitch said happily, slipping into a pair of clean, well-fitted pants from the closet. They clung to his hips perfectly, and he marveled at how they seemed tailored to him. He slipped on the worn boots, ignoring the ornate ones in the closet. “Appreciate it, buddy,” he muttered to Rex. The hound grumbled contentedly, his presence warm against Mitch’s skin.

  Before leaving, Mitch grabbed the Warden’s ring from the desk. He wanted to run an experiment with Rex later, but didn’t want to push him too much. Rex crackled with the purple energy from the Leeching spine, and Mitch wanted to understand what had changed before pushing the relic onto his dog.

  Galadrith’s voice hummed as Mitch picked up the blade, the weight reassuring in his hand. “Secret stronghold,” the sword muttered, half to itself. “Training grounds, candles, food… Abyssal Mushrooms? For food? Hogs? Relics. Yes. A place like this will hold relics. Hmm… what secrets lie here?”

  “Planning ahead, are we?” Mitch couldn’t help but snort as he caught Galadrith’s thoughts.

  “Always,” Galadrith replied, his tone contemplative. “I have escaped the cycle of Abyssal torment. This isn’t merely a sanctuary, Mitchell. There are secrets we must uncover.”

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  Mich agreed, and he glanced around the room one last time. A nap and a shower later, he felt like a new man. The souls within him stirred excitedly at the prospect to be on the move again.

  The weight of the Estate settled on his shoulders–not oppressive but heavy with meaning. He felt pulls in all directions of the sprawling building, not as sharp as the key’d had been, but persistent.

  “Let’s find out what this place holds then.” Mitch said to Galadrith and opened his bedroom door.

  Mitch opened the door, and immediately, the sound reached him. A metallic banging echoed faintly through the air, like someone knocking.

  He froze, hand still on the doorknob, ears straining. It wasn’t loud, nor was it the chaotic screeching and wailing he’d come to associate with most Abyssal Horrors. It sounded like someone wanted to be let in through a door from somewhere.

  Better than yelling. If whatever is knocking isn’t screeching, it should be fine–for now.

  He thought for the best course of action for a moment.

  Time to delegate.

  Standing in the hallway was Mook, his claws twitching with barely contained energy, and Varak, holding a crooked broom. A corner of the hall behind her revealed a giant pile of gathered dust. Her brood was nowhere to be seen.

  “You hear this? Yes? Something is here. I must still investigate where the knowledge is hidden.” Mook said, his voice curious and excited as he leaned forward slightly.

  Mitch looked at Varak, who answered before he could ask. “Children sleeping. Other minion too. Finally. No need wake. They…tired. Dust everywhere. Hmmm.” She gestured at the pile as if it were a great victory.

  Mitch smiled at her. It was strange to see an Abyssal monster holding a broom and cleaning. “Good. They need to rest.” His tone shifted. “Mook, Varak, I want you to check out the source of that knocking. Whatever’s there, I need to know. Don’t open the door where it’s coming from,” He turned to Mook. “Just ping me when you find it.”

  Mook’s black eyes gleamed, his anticipation palpable. “Of course, Mitchell. Door. Books as well, yes? Knowledge. Yes, we will find them.” He barely waited for Mitch’s nod before scuttling off, his feet claws clicking down the corridor as Varak gave Mitch a look before following, broom still clutched in one hand. She grumbled something about “dusty knocks.”

  Hathgar and Sable walked towards him from down the hall, both looking refreshed. Patty and Leonard were nowhere to be found. Still recovering in their shared room. Hathgar rolled his shoulders, his wrought iron body now wearing a clean but too-long shirt. “What’s all that noise, lad?” he grunted. “Can’t we get a damned break?”

  “No idea yet. Mook and Varak are on it. If it’s not trying to kill us, I’m sure it’ll be fine for at least a little,” he turned to Sable, who looked fantastic to him now that she wasn’t covered in soot and sludge.

  “We’re checking out the first floor,” Mitch finished, taking in Sable’s clean lips before motioning them to follow. Her eyes stayed on his with a hungry, almost ravenous look.

  As they walked, the air around them felt alive. Glowstones set into the ceiling cast even light, illuminating intricate carvings on the stone. The hall was wide, its vaulted ceiling lined with shard arches that seemed to both invite and menace. Each step they took was muffled by the thick crimson rugs that ran the length of the floor.

  Mitch ran his hand along the wall as they moved, tracing the carvings. They weren’t just decorative. Symbols twisted and flowed, their meaning teasing his mind like unspoken truths. It was impossible to tell if the hum he felt came from the glowstones, the walls, or the building itself.

  “This place,” Sable said quietly. “It’s not the Abyss. I mean, not like the parts we’ve seen. It’s…” She hesitated, looking at Mitch. “Comfortable. I don’t feel like something’s going to jump out at us.”

  He agreed. The Estate was alive in its own way, and not in the dangerous way.

  The staircase opened into the spraying foyer. It was grand, but also felt empty. A pleasant inviting face that did not reveal anything truly meaningful. The hallways bracketed off in multiple directions, each disappearing behind a corner. Dust coated every surface, but there was little ornamentation, almost as if this was the least interesting part of the property.

  Mitch heard Mook and Varak’s distant scitters towards the hallway to their right and towards the knocking. He veered left, and led the way, letting his gut lead him.

  The black marble corridor widened, leading into a large room. The furnishings became visible as they approached–a living room, or what had once been one. Cracked leather couches arranged around a dark fireplace. The mantle held something he couldn’t make out in the shadow. A tarnished brass chandelier hung overhead.

  Mitch stepped forward to cross the threshold–and the world shifted.

  The air thickened for a moment, he felt his stomach lurch, and then the living room vanished.

  He stood in a dim, unfamiliar space. The walls shimmered like the surface of an oil slick, and the floor beneath his boots felt solid yet wrong, as if resisting his weight.

  “Bloody fucking portals,” Hathgar’s voice came from behind him as he stumbled next to Mitch. “Of course. Why not? Wonderful, just when I thought ye’ were doing the smart thing and looking fer the whiskey cellar.”

  Stable stepped through next, her gaze looking around the small with multiple off shooting halls. “Where are we?” she asked, her voice steady despite the tension in her shoulders.

  “I don’t know,” Mitch admitted. His gut had told him to come this way, and he wanted to keep exploring. He scanned the hallways that lined the walls, and chose one at random.

  Something within his body’s memories told him that he just needed to focus on where he wanted to go. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he did want to know what secrets the Estate held. It was time to meander.

  It wasn’t what they’d expected.

  But it was exactly what the Estate had intended.