The walls grew narrower as they descended. It was less like a hospital now and more like a wound that refused to close. Overhead lights flickered in slow pulses. Every few feet, the steel gave way to glass, and the glass gave way to things not meant for seeing.

Joseph walked point, sword low, eyes scanning the shadows. Behind him came Uscoshi and Mac, then the paladins, then Mercedes and Joe. Rose and Garland followed, with Kitamar bringing up the rear. It was a formation suited for a descent where the danger wasn’t ahead so much as everywhere.

The corridor split, then rejoined itself like the halls couldn’t decide which path they wanted to be. One of the doors they passed had melted at the edges. Mac paused beside it, catching his breath.

“Glyph activation,” Uscoshi murmured, catching up. “Recent.”

Kitamar crouched by a dried smear of red-black across the floor. Bones. Shards of them with embedded sigils. Many were unfinished, like someone had been carving into them and lost interest halfway through.

“That was dwarf-stock,” Rose said quietly, indicating the remains. “The joints are too wide. Weight in the limbs says dwarf-blood.”

Garland crouched, tapped one shard with a knuckle. “Looks surgical. Not crude. Somebody knew exactly where to cut.”

He caught Rose’s glance and stood quickly. “I read things. Doesn’t mean I approve.”

Joseph didn’t turn. “They’re mixing. Splicing.” Each twisted body, each glyph-burned corpse, added a new layer to the frost forming beneath his skin. His thoughts moved faster now, cleaner. He didn’t burn like the paladins. He became cold and clear. The part of him that once ended battles before they began was stirring again.

Joe swallowed hard. “Why? That kind of blood doesn’t mix easily. You try to blend elf and dwarf stock, you get monsters—or corpses.”

“They don’t care,” said Kitamar, rising. “They’re not raising warriors. They’re forging weapons—bad ones.”

They moved on, the weight of that sinking in behind them.

A few meters ahead, one of the sealed doors hissed and opened unprompted. Inside, the corridor beyond was unnaturally clear. No bodies, no wreckage. Just a smooth path leading deeper into the buried complex.

Garland muttered, “That’s not creepy at all.”

“No tripwires, no trigger glyphs,” Mercedes noted. “That door shouldn’t have opened.”

Joseph’s grip tightened on the hilt. Whatever was herding them forward was still watching. But it hadn’t led them wrong yet.

As they passed another cluster of bodies, Dorrin halted. He knelt beside one, removed his glove, and pressed two fingers to its brow.

“May you walk the fields of light,” he said quietly. “Unbroken. Remembered.”

He rose more slowly this time, and when he did, his shoulders seemed broader, like something beneath the surface had begun to stir.

A minute later, Bryce stopped beside a half-crushed figure curled beneath a broken panel.

“Peace to your name,” he murmured. “If no one else remembers you… I will.”

He clenched his hand after the words, the leather stretching tight across his knuckles. His jaw was set harder now, his breath coming in slower, deeper pulls.

Inez followed suit at the next corner. Her prayer was firmer, sharper:

“May you know peace,” she said, voice like drawn steel. “The Light saw you. The Light claims you. Only He gets the last word.”

The torchlight caught on her face. For a breath, her eyes burned bright with something not entirely natural. Joe flinched without realizing why.

They moved again, but it was slower now. Each passing of the dead marked by a word or gesture. The air grew thicker.

Joe muttered, “We don’t have time—”

“God has time, Joe,” Dorrin said without looking back. “And He’ll hold the madman running this place long enough for us to reach him.”

“No one mourned these souls,” Bryce added. “No one buried them. We could be the last who’ll pass this way.”

Joe quieted. But he noticed how Bryce’s stride didn’t slow, If anything, it lengthened. The man looked like he could carry ten dead on his back and still swing a blade without stopping.

The next chamber was open. The lights were steady, casting everything in greenish blue. Dozens of containment pods lined the walls. Most were shattered. One was still active. Something moved inside, barely breathing. It looked human. Almost.

Dorrin placed a hand on Joe’s shoulder. He started to shake it off this time—then stopped. He glanced down at the prelate’s arm, where the veins beneath his skin had risen. His skin looked flushed. He was… changing.

A metallic groan echoed down the hall behind them. The group spun as one. Joe leveled his bow, Uscoshi was already palming a dagger in her left hand. Everyone shifted instinctively to engage.

But nothing came. Just echoes.

Uscoshi let her breath out and stepped in close to Mac. She didn’t say anything, just slipped under his arm and drew it around her shoulders. He blinked, startled, but then looked down and saw her face.

She wasn’t afraid of battle. He’d seen her kill slavers and snap bones without breaking stride. But whatever this place was, whatever had been done here, it crawled under her skin. And she didn’t want to be alone in it.

He gave her a small nod and adjusted his stance to match hers. She relaxed into him.

Joe watched the exchange in silence, his jaw tight. He shifted his grip on the crossbow’s stock like he meant to say something, but then Inez sidled up beside him, voice low.

“This is why we exist, Joe” she said, nodding toward the glyph-scarred door ahead. “Paladins. The Order. We were meant for places like this.”

He didn’t answer right away.

“To bring light to the dark,” she added. “To help the helpless. Destroy evil where we find it. That’s why God favors us.”

She touched his arm briefly. Her grip had power to it—more than it should. Joe glanced at her hand, then at her. Her expression was calm. But behind her eyes, something was rising.

“And those who walk beside us,” she finished.

Joe exhaled. A little of the tension left his posture, draining away faster than fear ever had before. Inez’s hand rested on his arm, steady and warm. He didn’t know how she did it. He only knew it worked.

As they passed one more broken form slumped against the wall, Dorrin slowed again. He didn’t speak this time. Just knelt, placed his hand briefly to the man’s chest, and lingered longer than before.

When he stood, his fingers curled into a fist. His posture shifted. His spine aligned and his shoulders set. His breath became deeper and slower. He didn’t look anyone in the eye, but something in him had changed, and everyone near him felt it.

The group moved on.

The corridor widened just enough for a loose two-by-two formation, but not enough to maneuver well. After two hundred yards or so, the corridor opened into a wide hexagonal junction chamber. For a heartbeat, only their footsteps disturbed the gloom. 

Garland unsnapped the waxed-leather folio he carried around his neck, the same brass-trimmed case embossed with a gilded Church glyph. Inside, copper-etched inserts and thread-bound schematics rattled softly as he started rifling through the contents. He looked at Dorrin, and said, “Prelate, how badly do we want to find your Valkyrie?”

Dorrin frowned. “Pretty bad. Why are you asking?”

He shrugged, uneasy. “I have a device that might allow me to scan and get an idea of the layout. I’m not really sure how…eh, how comfortable you’d be with me using it, though.”

“Let me guess,” Inez said, coming up behind the specialist. “You’ve got an echolocation mapping device?”

He spun in surprise. “Yes…how’d you…”

Inez grinned. “They are not approved for civilian uses—but we paladins use them when we are exploring vault cities for proscribed magic or technological artifacts. Fortunately for you, there are two paladins here who are authorized to use that device, so you have permission to proceed. Sorry, rookie,” she turned to Bryce with an apologetic smile, “You’re not rated for that just yet.”

Bryce dismissed that comment with a shrug.

Garland returned to his folio and continued to search. He pulled out a bright yellow rectangle, about the half the size of a piece of paper, and about as thick as three or four silver chits. He quickly moved his fingers across the device and then sat it on the ground. “Takes a minute to do a proper scan,” he said.  

After a few minutes, the device gave a cheery beep, and Garland picked up the device. He studied the markings on the surface. “I’ve got a partial floor plan.  Looks like if we swing right at the next junction, there’s an access ramp that leads straight to what would appear to be the analysis wing.”

Joseph gave a sharp nod. “Let’s not waste this opening.”

Rose was checking Mercedes, who still looked pale. “You good?”

She nodded. “Just needed a second. I’m fine.”

Kitamar took point. “If they had suppression glyphs ready, they’ll have other kinds waiting. Expect worse.”

“That’s the spirit,” Garland muttered. “Just what I needed.”

Inez put a hand on Garland’s shoulder. “You can keep the toy for now, but when we’re out of here, we’re going to talk about that device, and any other unauthorized tools you may be carrying.”

He inhaled sharply. Seliek, where are you? I may actually need extraction now.

Joseph followed Kitamar out. Rose fell in beside him without a word. She didn’t need to speak. The look they shared, brief, unspoken, held years of knowledge of each other and shared resolve.

We came for one. We’ll leave with all of them.

Neither said it. Both believed it.

They moved as one, deeper into the red-lit halls, unaware that behind the walls, the path ahead was being unlocked for them.