Six days later.

Autumn stumbled through the dark tunnels in a feverish blur, trying to keep her footing as she used its rough walls as a guide. Not that she was paying much attention to where she stepped, with her mind aflame as it was. Just trying to marshal her thoughts was akin to swimming through a mire. And when she could muster a coherent thought, the stabbing pain of hunger drew it awry. Even the brief solace she’d gained by chewing on scraps of leather had waned. 

On that note, Autumn needed new straps for her belt.

Thankfully, the black waters quenched her thirst plenty. It was rather oily, however, and still as chilly as when she first scooped it up. What long-term consequences its consumption posed, Autumn pushed into the back of her mind for the future-her to take care of. 

And the future-her was sure in for a treat.

Dirty robes hung loose across Autumn’s already slim frame, and more than once already she’d had to tighten her belt around a thinning waist. Crossing through the black water wasn’t helping matters either, as every time she did so, it drew more from her body and hastened her starvation. A troubling prospect when it was often the only way forward when the tunnels she traveled came to a dead end. 

“Halt.” 

An icy voice cut through the murky haze of Autumn’s fever. It took a long moment for the witch’s beleaguered mind to process the word, but somehow, she managed it in the end and stopped in place. 

The first few days of the long walk had seen rise to amicable conversations between the pair of witch and banshee. However, as hunger and exhaustion gnawed heavier and heavier upon Autumn, their talks lessened and became more clipped in tone till they amounted to nothing more than a few words of direction here and there. 

Such as now.

“...oh, how unfortunate.” 

Autumn had not stopped in time. Her armored boot collided heavily with a decently sized stone, sending it careening forward with a clatter. Released from its immobility, the stone hopped across the ground, gaining momentum with each bounce. Down it tumbled, down as it heralded an unseen slope just beyond the witch's feet. Another joined it, and another, and another, until the entire slope rumbled with their avalanche. 

And once more, the ground fell away from beneath Autumn’s feet.

“Fuckin— Not againnnnnnnnn!!!!!” Autumn swore, her voice echoing out into the tunnel. 

Sharp gravel dug into her back as she slid down the scree slope feet first. Autumn’s heart beat like a wild stallion in her chest and her eyes flew wide open, but there was nothing for her to see as she scrambled at the rocks and dirt, desperate to halt her almost uncontrolled downward slide. At least, there was nothing at first. A pale, haunting light slowly bloomed up ahead as the tunnel ended, bathing the young witch in the first actual light she’d seen in days; she didn’t count the reflection of shadows that the black water’s icy mirror of the world provided. It was a welcome sight, even if she was careening down a rocky slope into it.

Just as she was beginning to enjoy it, the tunnel suddenly came to an abrupt end, sending Autumn flying out and into a tumbling freefall. 

Immediately, she was hit by a wall of the foulest stench that was beyond anything she’d ever smelt before. It crashed upon her senses like a tidal wave, and if there had been anything left in her stomach, it wouldn’t be anymore. Autumn gagged, which was mighty unfortunate for her as, with a grand splash, she plunged down into a pool of befouled water. While the water did indeed break her fall, it also rushed into her open mouth, painting her taste buds with a coating of death and decay.

Now she did puke.

Autumn desperately swam through a murky foulness to the surface. Upon breaching it, she clambered atop the nearest thing afloat that she could grasp, which, to her consternation, squelched rather unpleasantly between her fingers as she clung onto it. She could not see what it was or where she was for a sticky, stinging grime coated her vision, left behind by the foul waters she’d unwillingly entered. Autumn wiped at her eyes, trying not to gather anymore gunk into them until her vision cleared just enough for her to glance down at what buoyed her.

A grinning skull, still slimy with decaying flesh, stared up at her. 

“AHHH!!!” Autumn screamed as she flung herself away. 

Twisting hither and thither, Autumn frantically cast about for something else less gruesome for her to cling to as she treaded the tainted water. But it was not to be, for she swam in an ocean of corpses. Millions upon millions of rotten bodies, beast and man alike, rose out of the foul waters to form great putrefied rolling hills and vast fetid plains. Like great rusted forests, long tarnished spears rose out of this mass of flesh, still clasped by fallen hands. And upon the standards towering high, there hung the decaying banners of kingdoms and empires, long since dead. At their feet lay broken arms and armor like a hundred thousand tombs, maybe more. And as Autumn gazed up to eye the banners, she saw behind them, dominating it all, were the gargantuan bones of a species that too was long dead. 

Dragons. 

They were larger than anything had a right to be, larger than many small cities. One truly majestic set was even larger than the city of Duskfields, stone pillar and all.

Such was their sheer scale that it defied belief. Flesh that still clung to their bones looked fresh and bright, more akin to streamers hung between them by some macabre civilization than the decaying remains of something over a thousand years dead. 

Here and there, scavengers small and large, could be seen picking at the feast. 

Autumn shook herself out of her morbid fascination and clambered—much to her destestment—atop one of the decaying mounds that surrounded her to free herself from corpse-water. 

“...wast we better off in the dark? At which hour mine own eyes wast not subject'd to such macabre sights?” The banshee whispered in Autumn’s mind. Even in death, she found herself unnerved by the scale of the carnage before her. Generations of dead lay within this sprawling cavern that was almost a grim realm unto itself.  

Feeling unsettled by the sight, Autumn cast her gaze upward in search of just what was casting the haunting glow to reveal it. Her eyes were drawn to the pale light’s source. Thousands of black-iron chains emerged from a miasmic haze that enshrouded the high ceiling. Each one crept down like a heavy thread before ending in a cruel cage of bone wrapped in iron. Within the grim holdings shone imprisoned lights. 

“Will-of-the-wisps.” The banshee informed her. “Haunt’d lights, someone did trap by foul means. And in yond castle ov'r yonder I believeth they didst dwell, 'r mayhap they dwelleth still.”

“Castle?” Autumn asked, her voice coming out faint. The longer she spent in this damp hold, the more the miasma was affecting her. Methane and ammonia, her faltering educated mind supplied, given off by the masses of decomposing dead.

“Cast thy gaze to thy right.”

Autumn cast her gaze to the right. There was nothing there but more death. 

“…thy other right; I forget mortals only has't the one.”

Bemused and annoyed, Autumn looked left.

Perched atop a mountain of decomposing bodies, a dread castle loomed like a carrion crow. It was a brutal tower of bone and black iron, fused and forged by dark powers. A macabre display encircled the tower’s bone-white walls. Ancient heroes, once bold and bright, dangled from sharp spikes and jutting balconies, their own sinewy flesh forming the hangman’s nooses. Like the webs of a spider or the guidelines of a tent, thick braided cords made of tendons ran far from the tower to pierce down into the corpse’s field below; from it dangling more dead heroes. From arrow slits and murder-holes, the teal light of undeath looked down haughtily upon the dead, who appeared to be crashing against its base like waves of a putrid ocean.

Autumn would bet anything that it was a necromancer’s lair. 

“Oh, that castle.” Autumn muttered.

“Doth thee bethink anyone's home?” The banshee asked.

“Honestly. I don’t know which would be worse. At the very least, if someone’s home they’d—” 

A sudden piercing pain in her stomach interrupted Autumn’s words. Clutching at her anguished stomach, she sank to her knees as she desperately hoped for it to pass. Bile and spit dribbled from her lips as she cried out in agony. When the pain had finally passed, it left her gasping and light-headed, staring down into the piles of tainted and congealed meat below her.

Grimly, Autumn picked at the slime. 

“Thee aren't going to consume yond gristle, art thee?” The banshee asked hesitantly as she watched from within the soul-cage. 

Autumn grimaced. 

To even consider consuming such a vile substance was an act of utter madness, but Autumn was beyond hungry at this point; she was ravenous. Her stomach growled in anticipation, demanding to be sated. It ashamed her just how much the sight of foul meat made her salivate. Truly, hunger was the king of spices. It took her a while to rummage elbow-deep through the gore and grime, but eventually, Autumn salvaged a bone still thick with reasonably fresh-looking meat. While she wondered how that was possible, she wasn’t willing to look a gift horse in the mouth right now. All she hoped for was that it was more beast than man. But even that was a thin line with how hungry she was.

Autumn gulped. 

“Yond castle might has't actual food in it. Thee knoweth thou couldst just wait?” Even dead and a Fae, the banshee still found herself revolted by the task Autumn had set for herself. 

“You don’t know that!” Autumn barked out. “I need…I need to eat as soon as I can, as the longer I go without food, the longer it’ll take me to recover. Besides, we don’t even know if I lost the hag…s-she could be on my heels at this very moment. I need to eat. It’s…it’s just meat, right? It’s just meat.” 

Both Autumn and the banshee looked at the befouled meat dubiously. 

“Right. It’s just meat.” 

Neither of them believed that. Autumn breathed out heavily as she steeled herself, trying to muster up enough courage to overpower her disgust. And with her stomach frantically urging her on, Autumn took a plunge over the edge of rationality and bit into the foul meat, tearing a stringy strip from the bone. Immediately, a wave of revulsion beset her as the most loathsome of flavors crashed heavily against her taste buds, souring her sensibilities. Hot tears sprang into her eyes as she tried to chew the tough meat and hold back her gagging. It took great effort of will to force herself to swallow the strip of flesh and fight against her body’s natural reaction to vomit. But in the end she did and the meat settled heavily in her stomach. 

Autumn stared a thousand-yard-stare across the way as she shook. 

The small bit she’d taken proved not enough for her awakened stomach, and it growled for more. Under the horrified and somewhat impressed eyes of the banshee, Autumn stripped the rest of the flesh off the bone before splitting it in half to suck out the marrow.

With her grim meal concluded, and her stomach finally sated, at least for the moment, Autumn’s mind cleared and her face blanked in horror over what she’d just done. Bile swelled in her throat, but the thought of eating all that…that foul meat for nothing had her forcing it back down with a rare and powerful show of will. Autumn felt she was more beast than girl right now, just another foul scavenger visiting this dread demesne, but she supposed that was better than starving to death. 

Even if only a little.

After a few silent, contemplative moments the banshee broke the silence of Autumn's mind. “Twas quite the sight. Thee did impress, truly.”

“...Please, don’t talk. I just want to forget about it.” Autumn pleaded, green in the face. 

---

 

Far in the distance, atop the battlements of the fortress of bone and black-iron, a pair of orange eyes watched Autumn through a telescopic lens. They were wide and filled with surprise, amusement, disgust, and a tinge of sympathy. 

“My my my, just what have you gotten up to, Autumn? You just can’t leave your mages alone anymore these days.”