Siel leaned back against the cold stone, trying and failing to get comfortable. A fire burned in the hearth across from her, but the warmth seemed muted under the weight of the stone above.

  Mjolna lay beside her, seemingly asleep if not for the subtle twitches of her ears. The boar had the uncanny ability to drift at the edge of unconsciousness and alertness, always on guard for potential threats.

  The first few hours after they’d shut the door, they'd been forced to repel three separate attacks. The spinners had thrown themselves at the gap with little regard to their own safety, and Siel had earned a fair amount of spira as they'd crushed themselves under their own weight.

  Eventually, however, they'd pulled back, clearly realizing that their prey had to come out at some point. They weren't wrong. Siel had checked every square inch of the chamber and found no hint of another exit. If there was one only accessible by magic, she didn't have the means to detect it.

  Perhaps Sam would find something when he woke up.

  If he woke up.

  She looked over to where he lay, body unnaturally still. She'd removed his armour and cleaned his wounds as best she could, but her skills as a healer left much to be desired. Under each piece of battered armour she’d discovered a new set of injuries, to the point that almost no part of him remained unscathed.

  How was he still fighting? She'd wondered to herself as she’d dressed his wounds in makeshift bandages. He was covered in cuts and punctures and had multiple broken bones. The bites from the spinners went deep, and his skin had taken on a sickly, green cast.

  She’d been much more fortunate. Her own body had repelled the toxin, and her healing skill was particularly adept at expelling foreign influences. She’d felt woozy for a time, but it had passed soon enough.

  It was strange to see him lying there. He'd been sleeping less and less over the past few weeks. His usual intensity had taken on a manic edge, and that had manifested in borderline insomnia.

  She pulled up her tafla and went back through her messages with Arther. They'd been communicating daily since her last visit, and she’d taken to asking his advice on how to deal with the uncompromising human.

  I hear what you’re saying, but you just have to trust him. I know it seems rash, but he's not wrong; you're falling behind. I know he feels guilty about it. He blames himself for the lack of monsters.

  Arther

  Guilt or not, he's going to get himself killed. Every day he takes even greater risks. If he didn't have that healing skill, he would have died today. That bear nearly took his leg off. I know we have to keep pushing, but I'm worried he’ll do something stupid, something he can't just muscle his way out of. I'm trying to support him as best I can, but I feel like he's losing himself. He doesn't smile anymore, and I haven’t heard him talk about Earth in days.

  Siel

  He feels responsible. I know he cares about you, and he's doing his best to make sure you both stay alive. I wish I had better advice, but there just isn't time to slow down. We always knew this would be the hard part. You just need to persevere for a few more days. Once you make it to the second Ring, you can take a day or two to rest and recover. Depending on which one it is, there should be a town where you can resupply. You'll need to find a smith to repair your armour. That should force him to slow down for a bit.

  Arther

  We have to make it there first. Can you talk to him? He gets defensive every time I bring it up.

  Siel

  He hasn't answered my last few messages. I've tried every day. I'm worried about him. No matter how many times I do this, it never gets easier. I wish I could do more. It's all up to you now. We both know he's something special. You need to protect him.

  Arther

  Siel bit her lip as she read and re-read the final line. Sam was the strongest Warrior she'd seen. Derek had been a monster in his own right, but his personality had made him volatile and dangerous. An unpredictable ally was no better than an enemy.

  Sam was different. While she knew there was a darkness to him, he kept it locked up like a magma vent. The closest she’d seen it rise to the surface had been against her fellow Sylvanarae. His anger had manifested as an almost physical thing, and despite the fact that he had no patron, she could have sworn she'd felt the ripples of [Divine] energy in the heat of his rage.

  And yet she was meant to protect him? Her? The auka, the extra. The mouth that never should have been fed. She'd been a burden her entire life; why should now be any different? She knew her siblings and parents had all gone hungrier than they should have, and only her grandfather’s position had ensured they hadn't starved.

  It had been the reason she'd trained so hard, all in the hopes of being selected. She still couldn't believe her prayers had been answered, even if it meant she perished in this godsforsaken place. The fact that she'd been given a chance was enough. If she died, at least she’d die fighting.

  She glanced over at Sam again, her gut twisting. He’d never asked for this. Hells, he hadn't even been aware of the War before he'd been summoned. She still didn't know how it was possible that humanity lived without the gods. It seemed so unnatural. But given his apparent hatred for them, perhaps it was for the best.

  Beside her, Mai stirred, tufted ears twitching. The cat rose and stretched before padding over to the human’s unconscious form. To Siel’s surprise, the sphinx shrank herself even further and curled up on the human’s chest. A low purring filled the room, and Siel thought she could detect a hint of magic behind it.

  Bast was an enigmatic goddess, and her minion was no different. Her magic seemed generally supportive in nature, yet Siel knew it was incredibly varied. She was still learning the potential of her new familiar, though she had to admit it was frustrating not feeling like she could fully trust the creature.

  At some point, she drifted off, and her dreams were sharp and uncomfortable. Long, spindly legs dangled from above and tore into her when she tried to break free.

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  She sat up, gasping for breath, and checked the time on her tafla.

  [Ring Purge Initiates In: 04:15:12:42]

  She groaned and rested her cheek against Mjolna’s thick bristles. They'd lost far too much time in the Dungeon, and they still had yet to actually discover the location of one of the Valhallen Gates. They'd passed through a few promising areas, but none of them were nearby. They would open twelve hours before the Purge began, and if Warriors were smart, they'd wait until the final moments before passing through, maximizing the amount of spira they could collect.

  She stood and stretched, pulling out her dagger and weaving her way through a set of basic forms. The movements brought her back to her childhood, to hours spent in the gap behind the moisture collectors. Their rumble had been a constant companion, so different from the eerie stillness of the shrine. The movements were the same. And while she no longer wielded a practice sword, she could still hear her grandfather berating her from beneath his wispy mustache.

  Time slid away from her as she moved from one form to the next, slowly increasing the complexity of the kata. The room was large enough that she could execute even the most intricate of maneuvers. It was only when she brought the dagger crashing down point-first–cracking the stone in the process–that she realized the fire had nearly gone out.

  She hadn’t put any more wood on it in hours, yet somehow the small flame still burned. She threw in another handful of wood, and the greedy tendrils spread in an instant, consuming the dry kindling. The fire grew with an almost supernatural speed, a light breeze brushing against her brow.

  She cocked her head and focused on the sound of rushing air. Whatever mechanism controlled the flue–it still worked. The chimney both cleared the smoke and brought in a flood of fresh air. Which meant that there had to be an exit somewhere above.

  The knowledge kindled a small spark of hope in her gut, and she smiled as she returned to her position near the door. She would give Sam another four hours. After that, she had to try clearing a path out on her own. It wasn’t ideal, but she was confident she could at least make a dent in the spinner’s numbers if she kept them contained to the corridor.

  She took some time to organize and repair her arrows, acutely aware of the timer ticking down in the corner of her vision.

  Sam awoke twenty minutes before her self-imposed deadline.

  She wouldn’t have noticed if it hadn’t been for Mai letting out a satisfied yowl. Sam’s breathing quickened, and he rolled over and began vomiting all over the floor. She rushed over and cradled his head as he emptied his stomach, retching until not even bile remained.

  His eyes remained steadfastly closed even as his body contorted, muscles spasming as they fought off the venom. She tried squeezing his hand, but couldn’t break whatever trance-like state he found himself in.

  “Sam,” she called. “Sam, please, wake up. Sam, you need to wake up!”

  He gasped and shot upright, nearly headbutting her in the face. His complexion was ashen, and pale green lines still pulsed beneath the surface of his skin. But he was alive.

  “Water,” he whispered. “Water.”

  She summoned a waterskin and held it to his lips. Sam drank from it greedily, hand shaking as he tilted the vessel back into his mouth.

  He drank the entire thing and summoned one of his own, downing it as well. It was only when the second one was empty that he appeared to grasp the state of his body. He stared down at the bandages that covered him, a small groan escaping his lips.

  A flash of mana enveloped him, and Siel watched in awe as his wounds promptly stitched themselves back together.

  “I’ll never get tired of seeing that,” she said, taking back the empty waterskin.

  “I’ll be happy to never see it again,” Sam croaked. “It’ll mean I’m not horribly injured.” He looked around, eyes bleary, brow furrowing as he focused on the fire burning in the hearth. “Where are we? What happened to the Dungeon?”

  “We’re still in it,” Siel said, gesturing to the door. “You managed to get us to this kind of safe room. The spinners tried to get in but couldn’t get the door open.”

  “Right,” the word trailed off, his voice trembling. “How long was I out?”

  Siel took a deep breath before responding. “A little over ten hours. I was getting ready to open the door to try and find a way out.”

  “TEN–” he slammed his mouth shut, chewing the word like it was a particularly tough piece of meat. “We’re not going to make it.”

  “We’ll make it,” she said softly, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You asked for a Dungeon with powerful monsters. The smaller spinners are not worth much, but there are thousands of them out there, and probably hundreds of the bigger ones. What better place to grind than this? We now have a room we can defend and strike out from. Together, we can start clearing the rest of it. Sure, we lost some time, but we are not out of this yet.”

  She smiled, infusing it with all the positivity she could muster. She was surprised to find she actually believed it. While the situation was grim, there was still a potential upside. They weren’t dead yet.

  “Yeah, yeah. You’re right.” He reluctantly returned the smile. The expression looked out of place on his lean, weathered face, yet it suited him.

  He slowly got to his feet and set about dressing and doing basic maintenance to his armour. Despite the healing, he still moved more slowly than she would have liked. He was doing his best to hide it, but it was clear he was still in a great deal of pain. His eyes were fixed on the door and the sporadic scratching sounds that drifted through it.

  “One way out,” he muttered to himself.

  “What’s that?”

  “Whoever built this place made it so there was only one way in or out. Why would they do that? What is this place? It doesn’t feel like other Dungeons.”

  She nodded. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. No quest, no mystery to uncover. Just hordes upon hordes of monsters immediately there to kill us. The ogres as well, all of it feels like it was meant to keep Warriors out. Like we were never supposed to be here.”

  “What do you mean?” Sam replied, attempting to fix the bent edge of his shield.

  “In the corridors as we ran in here. There were carvings on the walls. The ogres had written warnings about the spinners, maybe even about Arachne herself. That’s why they didn’t want us in the caves. They were worried we’d draw them out again.”

  “I guess it makes sense,” Sam responded, scratching his chin. “But if the spiders were so close, why stay? I get there aren’t a lot of great places for villages this high up, but there had to be other places they could go.”

  “I don’t know,” Siel said, shaking her head. “The spinners are dangerous, but maybe there are other things out there that are worse.”

  Sam snorted. “The devil you know?”

  “Something like that.”

  He went back to his armour and was almost done buckling on his breastplate when he paused and looked at her. “There’s been something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said, face thoughtful.

  “What is it?” she replied, leaning on her bow.

  “That first day, by the river, when you called for me. How did you know my name?”

  She cocked her head, confused. “What do you mean by ' called for you?’”

  He looked just as confused as she was. “When the ogre was choking me, I heard you call my name, telling me to fight. How did you know it?”

  “I didn’t. I only found out later in the Memoria. I never yelled anything. Derek tackled me after I shot the ogre, and Mjolna nearly tore his head off.”

  “But…” he shook his head. “I heard someone call out. She was right there.”

  “Maybe there was someone else nearby? On your side of the river?”

  “I guess it’s possible,” he said slowly, but it was clear he didn’t believe it.

  Siel took a deep breath and tried not to let her concern show. Sam was a hair’s breadth from breaking, and she’d need to do everything in her power to stop that from happening. Behind her, the fire crackled, and Sam turned to stare at it.

  “What’s in those pots by the way?” he asked, eyes lingering on the ancient clay.

  “Oil of some description. Likely used for some sort of ritual.”

  “Oil…like, lamp oil?”

  Siel shrugged. “I think so, it’s not like any kind I’ve ever seen. I didn’t test it for fear of setting the whole place on fire.”

  Sam walked over and gently popped the lid off one of the vessels. He sniffed it, eyes going wide as he turned back and looked at her. “This is oil, alright. And there’s enough of it here to burn down more than just this room.” He pointed at the doorway and the enemies who lay beyond.

  “Something tells me they won’t play too well with fire. Let’s see if we can’t put this to use.”