“It seemed like the best option,” Kit said. “This is Gyre, otherwise known as Halfmask.”

Gyre’s skin prickled, and his scar itched. He ducked his head politely, then realized whoever was speaking couldn’t see it in the gloom. “Uh … hello.”

“Hello, Gyre,” the voice said. “Welcome to you as well, for whatever it’s worth. My name is Elariel.”

“A little light would be nice,” Kit said. “I’m not sure Gyre appreciates what he’s gotten into.”

“Of course.” There was a shuffling sound. “Please don’t scream.”

A glowstone came on, a very weak one, shedding the faintest blue radiance. It was barely enough to outline the edges of things, but Gyre’s eye had had a few moments to adapt to the darkness. He quickly got the impression of a high, cavernous space. While the building looked intact from outside, the interior had been gutted, two stories combined to make a single enormous chamber. Detritus from this deconstruction work was still in evidence, piled against the far wall in a tidy heap.

The space had been filled with arcana. The largest was a delicate-looking filigree of crystals and metal wire that took up much of what had been the second story, wound round with tough-looking vines. Plantlike shapes bloomed from the walls, sprouting crystalline protrusions and webs of leaves that gleamed with a metallic shimmer. Similar objects sprouted from the floor, clustering in a rough semicircle.

Of more immediate concern were the two hulking shapes that waited on either side of Gyre and Kit. They were vaguely humanoid, but at least eight feet high, and put Gyre in mind of the rock-like guardian that had killed Harrow down in the tunnels. These lacked the stony outer layer and were seemingly composed entirely of gleaming black muscle. They stood in complete stillness but nonetheless carried an air of barely contained tension, like springs that would unwind in sudden violence if the pressure was ever released.

But directly in front of him, beside the light, was a figure that put even these out of his mind. Gyre blinked, felt his mouth hanging open, and closed it with an audible clack. He swallowed hard, fighting for control of his throat. When he felt he could trust his voice, he spoke.

“You’re a ghoul.”

Elariel cocked her head. “I admit you’re taking it better than I expected.”