Eventually, circles of light became visible on the ceiling as they approached, flickering gently to life with a soft blue-white glow. It wasn’t bright, but it was enough to see by. Each time one of them came on, Gyre felt like it was escorting him along the path.

The Tomb. This had to be it, just as Kit had promised. Not a ruin. A living ghoul city.

Kit, by contrast, seemed to get jumpier the deeper they went. Each flicker of light made her twitch, and her hand was never far from the blaster at her side.

“Something wrong?” Gyre said, when they reached yet another junction.

“Shhh,” Kit said. “This isn’t right.”

Gyre lowered his voice to a whisper. “What?”

“This.” She gestured at the walls, the lights. “We’re getting close to the Tomb.”

“That’s the idea.”

“It’s not just a place you wander into! If this is the way in, then there’ll be—”

Something hit the floor nearby with a heavy stone-on-stone thud.

“Guards,” Kit finished. Her blaster pistol was already in her hand.

A massive shape loomed in one of the adjoining corridors. Gyre recognized the humanoid outline of a ghoul construct, like those he’d seen escorting Elariel, though this one was larger and covered in a layer of stone armor. Gaps at the joints showed the rippling muscle underneath, like the body of a plaguespawn but refined and perfected. It paused for a moment, looking them over—though it had no eyes that Gyre could see, no features on its blank stone faceplate—then lumbered forward. For all its weight, it was shockingly fast.

“Get its attention!” Gyre hissed, tossing his pack on the floor and yanking it open.

“I think we have it already,” Kit growled. But she dropped her own pack and started running across the floor of the tunnel. When the construct didn’t follow, she skidded to a halt, took careful aim with her blaster, and fired.

The crack of the bolt echoed painfully in the tight space, and Gyre had to put a hand over his dark-adapted eye. Instead of a detonation, though, the blast splashed harmlessly just before impact, shimmering energy briefly surrounding the construct. The thing turned toward Kit, and she encouraged it with another shot, which was similarly deflected. The floor shook as the construct started to run toward her, huge stone-armored fists at its sides.

“Gyre,” Kit shouted, backing away. “Maybe hurry it up?”

“Working on it,” Gyre muttered. He extracted the largest clay sphere from his satchel and spread liquid from another bottle across it. The stuff foamed on exposure to air, expanding into a ball of sticky goo. Pushing the rest of the alchemicals aside, Gyre ran after the creature. “Try to get it to hold still!”