Above it all, Melancholia was halfway to the ledge.

Vile kicked the first rat-monkey away, slammed an elbow into the second. The third fell on him and they rolled. The rat-monkey was up first, dancing and chattering. Vile got to his feet, lunging, his hands closing around the creature’s throat. The rat-monkey squawked, its hands and feet flailing as Vile’s arms straightened and he lifted. They may have been immune to magic, but Vile had hundreds of ways to take a life. Even from where she stood, Valkyrie heard the snap of the creature’s neck, and then Vile threw it to one side and turned to face the other two.

They snarled and shrieked their rage. Vile sent a shadow up to the ceiling. It wrapped around a stalactite and snapped it off, then swooped down and drove it through the smaller rat-monkey’s chest.

The remaining creature howled in anguish and went straight for Vile. It leaped for him but he moved, got behind it, wrapped an arm around its neck. He held it struggling against him while he strangled it, then let it fall.

Vile nudged the creature with his foot, while a shadow rose through the air after Melancholia. It lazily wrapped around her ankle and tugged, and she fell to the cavern floor, cursing. Vile lost interest in the rat-monkey, strode over to Melancholia as she did her best to stand.

“Stay away from me!” she roared.

Valkyrie took a breath, and sprinted from cover.

Melancholia tried to sweep Vile away in a wave of shadows, but something went wrong and she cried out, fell to her knees. Darkness pulsed through her skin.

Vile shadow-walked to her side, but just as he reappeared, the darkness pulsed again and he was gone.

Valkyrie skidded to a halt. “Where’d he go?”

“Thought you were dead,” Melancholia murmured.

“Where’s Vile? What did you do?”

Melancholia grimaced, and got up. “I don’t know. I think I redirected his shadow-walk.”

“Where?”

“Not sure. I don’t know how this works.”

“Is he far away? Are we safe?”

Melancholia hesitated, then shook her head. “I can feel him. He’s still down here. Still after us.”

Valkyrie looked up to the ledge. “You were going to climb up there? Let’s go.”

Melancholia scowled, and they started climbing. Valkyrie’s bloody fingers made climbing difficult, but she hissed through the pain, letting it make her angry, letting it reinforce her strength. She got to the top, turned and helped Melancholia up. They straightened just as someone stepped from the darkness beside them, and the White Cleaver swung his scythe at Valkyrie’s neck.

“Stop!” Melancholia yelled.

The blade halted, a hair’s breadth from Valkyrie’s skin.

“We need her to get out of here,” Melancholia said, wincing. “We can throw her to Vile as a decoy, or something. We have to keep going. You understand?”