"Dangerous." He tastes the word. "Perhaps. But dangerous does not mean invulnerable."
The whispers from the new passages grow louder, more insistent. But there’s frustration underneath the false sweetness now.
She will not come alone. The orc guards her too well...
"You hear them too," I say.
"Aye." His jaw clenches. "The monks. What remains of them. He’s been busy while we slept."
A new sound echoes through the chamber—wet, sliding. The walls themselves begin to move, stone flowing into impossible shapes. The passages stretch longer, branching into corridors that shouldn’t exist.
"The abbey lives," I whisper.
"The abbey serves." Krath’s hand drops to his sword hilt. "And it’s hungry."
That’s when the first bone-wight emerges from the original passage—skeletal, wrapped in burial cloth, green fire burning in its empty sockets. Then another. The whispers turn to hissing as more of the creatures shamble into view.
"Stay behind me," Krath growls, but even as he draws his blade, I feel the invisible tether between us pull taut. Whatever magic binds us won’t let me retreat while he advances.
The first wight lunges with claws extended. Krath’s sword sweeps in a horizontal arc, ember-light flaring along the edge. Bone and sinew part, and the creature’s skull goes spinning across the chamber.
But more are coming. Too many.
I try to back away from the advancing horde, but my feet won’t obey. Every step Krath takes toward danger drags me with him, as if we’re tethered by invisible chains.
"I can’t—" I stumble forward as he engages another wight. "The binding won’t let me?—"
"Fuck." Krath spins, catching my arm before I fall into reach of gnashing teeth. "I should have realized?—"
A bone-wight lunges from his blind side. No time to block, no time to dodge. Claws rake across his forearm, tearing through armor and flesh.
Pain sears up my arm—white-hot, immediate. I cry out, clutching at a wound that isn’t there, feeling his blood flow from invisible cuts in my skin.
His pain is my pain.
"Now you understand," he snarls, blood dripping from his torn arm onto the stone. "We share everything. Pain. Wounds. Death."
The reality crashes over me. Not just philosophical binding, but physical. Visceral. Every injury he takes, I feel. Every risk he faces becomes mine.
"You should have warned me."
"Would it have changed anything?" He cleaves another wight in half, ash and bone fragments spraying across the floor. "Would you have walked away?"
No.
The honest answer sits heavy in my chest. Even knowing the cost, even understanding the price, I would have made the samechoice. The knowledge called to me too strongly. The power was too tempting.
Another wight circles toward my unprotected side. Krath starts to turn, but there are too many directions to guard.
I pull chalk from my satchel, scrawling a sigil in the air with shaking fingers. "Ignis mortuum!"
Blue-white fire erupts from my palm, engulfing the creature and reducing it to drifting ash. The magic feels clean against the necromantic filth, burning away rot and darkness.
Krath spins toward me, shock clear in his ember eyes. "You?—"
"Hid my strength?" I manage another sigil, catching a second wight in flames. "The coven teaches defense first. I just never mentioned how good I got at it."
Something passes across his expression—surprise melting into what might be respect. Or admiration. The look sends unwelcome warmth through my chest.
