Under the stone that is of old of the Hal-Hassaria, before the years were counted, there is secret. Yes, it is hidden. The ancient ones of it this: "In the deep black, where no light goes, there is a gate. It is a path to a place darker than all." What is there before this gate? It is thing, yes. Wrought from metal, bones, and unhealing wounds. It has not seen the sun for many thousands of years. Its breath is death. It is rot. Its voice is like the ground breaking and the sky crying with great sound.

  This thing, it does not wake. No, it waits in sleep beyond Death. Sleep beyond calls of Life. And its very dream is strong enough to stop all who come close. They say its name is much feared. But they do not speak it. Still, it is known. Viseh Vysekhs, Shadow Wings of the Grave, last of the great dragons.

  - From the Mafik-law tablets found by the Crest of Cinders adventuring party from the City Beneath the Waves. Translated by Cressida de Laney of the University of Quas.

  We hurried through the winding corridors of the compound toward the quarters where Lady Aelayah’s guards were stationed, the sound of our passage echoing off the cold stone walls. Those men, clad in fine steel and the cultured arrogance of the elite were only allowed up to the outer circle of the Saint’s Sanctuary, the arena where the Festival was held.

  They were her supposed shield within the city, a city that now seethed with new danger, but as long as they were not by her side they were about as useful as teats on a bull. Her palanquin and her bearers too waited nearby her guard. If it were me, I would have abandoned them all to their fates, seeking a faster and more direct line of escape. Elwin, Kidu, Larynda, and I were more than enough of a match for whatever the Holder Houses of Al-Lazar could throw at us.

  Kidu, or Enkidu, as he now insisted, strode beside me, his face a dark thundercloud, his breath heavy with restrained anger. “More Warmlander betrayal, I smelled it as soon as I set foot among these tents of stone.”

  “I wish I could argue, but you speak the truth,” I replied, my tone matching the grim weight of his words.

  Enkidu’s broad shoulders sagged for a moment as he let out a growl of frustration, his armor clinking as he jogged. “They have robbed me of the honor I had wished for.”

  "Well… I think the honor would’ve been mine to lose, big guy,” the Rogue Elwin decided to comment at the worst possible time. “Considering I won and all.”

  Enkidu shot him a look that could have withered a tree, his knuckles tightening on the shaft of his spear. Elwin, wisely, did not press the issue.

  Lady Aelayah, struggling to keep pace with our flight, gasped between breaths. “What… nonsense… are you speaking of?” she panted, the rigors of the chase clearly taking their toll.

  “There will be a time for explanations later,” was my sharp response. The pampered princess was flagging and slowing us down. She probably had never had cause to run a day in her life.

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  Without another word, I made a snap decision. “Forgive me, my Lady,” I said, more for formality’s sake than a true apology. I scooped her up, throwing her over my shoulder as one might a bag of grain.

  “Put me down this instant!” she squawked in protest, fists beating futilely against my back.

  Farzan looked like he was about to object, but he wisely kept silent on the matter. “Just a bit longer, Lady Aelayah… your guards are close by,” he reassured her, though his tone lacked confidence.

  “None of this would have happened if my Shadow were still with me!” she complained, her voice muffled against my back. Women—they make one mistake seem like a lifelong offense, I thought, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.

  We rounded another corner, only to skid to a stop. More city Council Guards stood in our path, clad in heavy chain and scale mail, their open-faced helms revealing cold, stern expressions.

  “Stand aside,” I said, though I knew I cut a far less imposing figure with Lady Aelayah draped over my shoulder like a sack.

  “As my man said—stand aside! I am Aelayah of the Salahaem, and I command you to move at once!” Aelayah demanded, though her current state did little to inspire the regal authority she was used to.

  “Apologies…” a man at their front, perhaps their leader, stated. “We have orders to investigate an assassination attempt on the Alim.”

  “Preposterous…” shrilled Aelayah.

  Snickers ran through the men before us, their facade of grim seriousness fading as swiftly as morning mist. Enough was enough.

  “I believe we have given enough warning,” I pronounced, secretly glad that I was now given more than enough pretext of an excuse to do my next action.

  For too long, this spell had lurked at the edges of my mind, slippery and elusive, waiting for its moment. Rust. It was not just a curse to weaken and erode arms and armor—it was something far darker, far more sinister. Like all the magic gifted from the void between worlds, it hungered. It thirsted.

  Rust was not called, it was wrenched into existence, bound by force of will. The voices within helped me wrestle it into reality, their whispers guiding my tongue as I uttered words no human mouth was ever meant to shape. The syllables rasped like iron grinding against bone, and as I spoke them, black lightning crackled to life, leaping from me with dark wings toward those who dared block our path.

  It tore through them, an uncontrollable force. Where it touched unwarded iron and steel, the metal ignited in searing iridescent yellows and oranges. The metal hissed and groaned, burning hot. Their screams filled the air, shrill and panicked. Now they would die an agonizing death by liquid metal. The cries of their pain was a cruel melody, but one my ears had learned to appreciate. It was only the acrid smell of burning hair and roasting flesh intruding upon my senses that marred this otherwise pleasant symphony.

  “What is happening, Gilgamesh…” Lady Aelayah twisted, trying to steal a look. The moment she glimpsed the carnage, she froze, her face pale as she turned away, her body convulsing as dry heaves racked her. “Put me down,” she whimpered, but I ignored her plea.

  Captain Farzan’s face had gone ashen, his skin a sallow hue as he stared at the still-burning guards. Even my companions, hardened as they were, looked queasy, their expressions tight.

  “Move!” I barked, cutting across the death howls and snapping them out of their trance as the first death notifications blinked into my vision, superimposing themselves over the macabre scene.

  We picked up the pace, working our way through the charred remains of the Council guards. Perhaps my example would serve as a warning to those who sought to do us harm.