An eerie tune tore through the cove, filling my head with flickering visions of the rectangle door, and my stare fired to the singing woman as mutated, gray flesh covered her face. A bone-shuddering growl ripped from her throat, releasing a swarm of flies that blotted out my light like a dark mouth coming up from the ground to swallow me.

I didn’t remember passing out.

My heels landed on damp stone. Wails of fallen faith chilled my skin. Everything smelled of rain, rot, and death. It was too dark to make out forms, but the appetite of the feastbeggars was palpable through the tunnels.

I extended my hands—this was it. This was my chance to free the believers…

My face fell.

The gold and silver words were gone.

I flipped my hands around to see, but both sides were the same: plain, pale skin.

I looked around the tunnel, blinking at the dark turns.

Wake up, Helen! I tried.

A sound scraped around the tunnel’s corner, and I flattened against the wall.

“She’s here!” A collection of echoing whispers rushed right and left, coming from everywhere.

“Find her!” The same slew of a thousand whispers.

The scent of sour gnome flesh filled my nostrils, and I slapped a hand over my gagging mouth. Shouts bent around the tunnel. I felt needles—in my head, on my skin, stabbing my heart.

I slid down the wall and pressed my palms against my eyes. “Wake up,” I tried again. “Wake up!” My nails dragged down my cheeks.

When I dropped my hands, my eyes fixed on someone, and a scream drove up my throat.

Asteroth Ryuu’s silver eyes had turned black. Gray patches spotted his skin; his once-diamond white hair was stained with black speckles like burns. He was silent, staring like a lifeless doll. I trembled as I used the wall to stand.

“Found you.” His beastly whisper sailed into my chest. Asteroth’s mouth hadn’t moved.

I ran, catapulting around the corner, jogging up a set of stairs, following the shouts from those in iron bars. I slowed by a shredded curtain where a tall, black stone reached high into the darkness, covered in carved names. Many of the names were stroked out, but two rested at eye level inside a deep, engraved circle:

Summons of Death for:

Edward Green

The coward

&

Cane Endovan Crimson-Augustus

The renounced

Pounding footsteps filled the tunnel, and I leapt through the tattered curtain, tripping down a triad of stairs. I skidded to a halt right in the middle of the Patrols’ cages.

Cells on either side of me erupted with surprise, questions, and cries:

“Carrier!”

“Trite! Run!”

“Get out of here!”

I spun to the boys in raven-black and lifted my hands, trying to summon the power I knew was in my veins. I shook them.