But the mice refused to flee. They stared up at her. Yellowed and white bone, rotting forms. The

[Singer]’s song faltered. The mice slowly rose onto two legs. She pointed her glowing iPhone at them, seeing hundreds, possibly thousands around her. In one…vast…circle…

Cara’s voice faltered. And the mice attacked.

Skitterskitterskitterskitterskitterskitterskitterskitterskitterskitterskitterskitterskitterskitterskitterskittersk itterskitterskitterskitterskitterskitterskitterskitterskitterskitterskitterskitterskitterskitterskitterskitterskitt erskitterskitterskitterskitterskitterskitter—

Thousands of them flooded across the stone ground, climbing up the sides of the coffin. Undead lights flickering. Mouths open, decayed teeth biting.

“Fuck!”

Cara saw the first wave crest the coffin. She kicked, and a dozen bodies went flying. They were as light as nothing, but hundreds were coming. She looked around, saw an opening, and leapt.

The mice swarming up the coffin saw the living being land, crushing several of them underfoot and then run. They raced after her, silent but for the scratching sounds of their feet on stone.

“Dalius! Daliuuuus!”

That was the only word she screamed. The mice were coming. They were fast, but fear gave Cara wings.

For a moment. She ran through the rows of tombs, hearing them coming. They made no sound. That was what was so terrifying.

Something landed on her shoulder. Cara shouted. She felt teeth biting, sharp paws—she tore it off her, flung it to the ground. But more were catching up.

They leapt over coffins, swarming over the stone, trying to bite her, crawl up her legs, bring her down.

Cara felt things racing up her pants, tearing at her clothing.

“DALIUS—”

“Cara!”

A ghost flew through the tomb. At first his voice was annoyed. Ser Dalius held a torch made of hastily-bound roots lashed together. He flew towards her.

“What is the matter? I was as fast as I—dead gods!”

He saw the rats behind Cara. She just screamed.

“Do something!”

The [Knight]’s stupefaction lasted only a moment. He dropped the torch. And then he lifted his hand. His sword shot out of the sheath on his back and he charged, landing on the ground and lifting his greatsword.

“Behind me!”

His roar was like life in the darkness. Cara ran past the ghost and saw him slash. His first strike went through dozens of mice, severing them mid-leap. His sword was sharp enough even to hack into stone.

Ser Dalius pivoted, bringing his sword up in a second slash, then a third. He had been trained to combat, and delivered each blow with a swordsman’s grace.

Yet the flow of dead mice never slowed. Dalius hacked through fifty with one swing. But they came on, even when half their bodies were split in twain. Only when their skulls were destroyed did they stop.

And there were so many. Cara kept running. Ser Dalius backed up. The mice streamed through him. He slashed, faster, and faster, but it was like cutting water.

“Miss Cara! Run!”