The deeper passage did not smell alive.
That was the first thing Hexen noticed.
The tunnels they had crossed beneath Gildan had been unpleasant in entirely ordinary ways. Stagnant water. Rot. Mineral damp. Creatures that nested where sunlight had not reached for centuries and had adapted to the darkness by becoming either blind, luminous or unnecessarily hostile.
The passage ahead was different.
It smelled dry.
Not clean.
Dry.
Water still moved around their boots, but the air carried dust instead of decay. The change happened gradually enough that Hexen did not recognize it until the narrow tunnel widened and the sound of their own movement began returning from a much larger space.
Fendor stopped.
The others stopped with him.
“What?”
He raised one hand.
For several seconds there was nothing except water slipping around stone.
Then came another sound.
Not movement.
Water falling.
Farther ahead.
A steady, distant thunder.
Kaylor looked into the dark.
“Waterfall.”
Nethnarel listened.
“Large one.”
“Good.”
Fendor glanced at Kaylor.
“Why is that good?”
“It means the tunnel goes somewhere.”
“So did the crocodiles.”
“They went here.”
“That is not an argument.”
They continued.
The passage opened suddenly.
Their lights reached farther than expected and still failed to find the opposite wall.
The cavern beneath Gildan was enormous.
Natural stone formed most of it, though ancient hands had altered portions long ago. Pillars had been cut into the rock. Channels diverted underground water. Sections of floor had been flattened into broad shelves beside a black river that crossed the cavern from north to south.
The water ended at darkness.
The waterfall was beyond that.
Its voice filled the chamber.
But none of the heroes looked toward the sound.
They looked at the bones.
The pile occupied nearly an entire side of the cavern.
Not a pile.
A hill.
Thousands of bones had accumulated together in pale layers. Human ribs lay among animal skulls. Long femurs crossed smaller limbs. Some skeletons were nearly complete. Others had been shattered or gnawed until nothing remained but fragments.
Fendor moved closer.
“That’s encouraging.”
Isamu crouched beside the nearest remains without touching them.
“Old.”
“Some.”
Hexen came beside him.
That was the problem.
The lowest bones were ancient.
Yellowed.
Mineral-stained.
Nearly fossilized in places.
The upper layers were not.
A broken rib still held scraps of darkened tissue.
A leather belt remained buckled around part of a pelvis.
Near the top lay an entire skeleton in ruined armor.
Kaylor studied the armor.
“How recent?”
Hexen looked.
“Weeks. Months. Hard to tell down here.”
Nethnarel stared across the heap.
“People from the crossroads?”
Nobody answered.
It was possible.
That made it worse.
Hexen climbed several feet onto the edge of the bone slope.
He examined clothing.
Armor.
Bits of equipment.
Nothing he could see immediately identified Oxland guards or missing merchants.
That meant nothing.
If whatever lived here had been feeding for centuries, five recent travelers would disappear easily among the dead.
He came back down.
“We don’t know.”
Kaylor looked toward the darkness ahead.
“Then we keep going.”
Fendor nodded toward the bone hill.
“And if whatever made that is still here?”
Kaylor smiled without humor.
“Then we found something.”
The cavern narrowed again near the river.
A bridge had once crossed the water there.
Only parts remained.
Two stone supports rose from the current, but the center span had collapsed long ago. A heavy chain ran across the gap instead, anchored through enormous iron rings driven into the rock.
The chain was not ancient in the same way as the bridge.
It had been maintained.
Someone had wanted it there.
Fendor approached first.
“Trap?”
Nethnarel looked at him.
“Probably.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
The chain was thicker than Kaylor’s wrist.
He gripped one link.
Nothing happened.
Isamu looked at the anchoring ring.
Marks had been carved into the stone around it.
Not decoration.
A warning.
The language was old.
Nethnarel translated first.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
She read it again.
“Death lies beyond.”
Fendor stared across the river.
“That’s unusually clear.”
Kaylor tested the chain.
“Better than poetry.”
“Please do not pull that.”
Kaylor looked back.
“You said that last time.”
“Yes.”
“And we found monsters.”
“That is why I’m saying it again.”
Kaylor released the chain.
Fendor blinked.
“I did not expect that to work.”
Kaylor pointed toward the broken bridge.
“We don’t need it.”
He was right.
The heroes crossed the river without touching the warning.
Isamu moved across the water as easily as if it were stone.
Nethnarel flew.
Hexen used magic to keep the others from fighting the current.
Fendor crossed with the deeply unhappy expression of an elf who preferred ground to behave like ground.
Kaylor came last.
The chain remained untouched.
Nothing attacked them.
Fendor looked back.
“I would like it noted that caution succeeded.”
Kaylor stepped onto the far ledge.
“It hasn’t happened yet.”
“What?”
A sound came from the bone pile.
Everyone turned.
One section shifted.
Bones rolled down the slope.
A skull bounced once against the stone.
Then stopped.
Nothing emerged.
The heroes waited.
Silence.
Fendor looked at Kaylor.
“You did that.”
“I didn’t touch anything.”
“You said it.”
Kaylor turned away.
“Still counts.”
The tunnel beyond the river climbed.
Water no longer covered the floor.
That was almost pleasant.
Then the passage ended at the waterfall.
It occupied the entire far wall.
A black underground river poured from somewhere high above, struck a broad pool and vanished through a second opening below.
Spray filled the cavern.
The air tasted of stone.
On either side of the falls, narrow ledges curved along the wall.
Behind the water—
Nethnarel saw movement.
Not a creature.
Space.
“There’s something back there.”
Fendor squinted.
“How can you tell?”
“The water changes.”
Kaylor stared through the falling sheet.
“So we walk through.”
“No.”
Everyone looked at Nethnarel.
She raised from the ground.
“I’ll look first.”
Kaylor frowned.
“Why?”
“Because I can fly.”
“So can—”
“Not quietly.”
Kaylor closed his mouth.
Fendor smiled.
Nethnarel lifted higher.
Spray caught her cloak.
She moved along the edge of the cavern rather than directly toward the falls, rising until she could see across the upper section.
There was a ledge behind the water.
Then a tunnel.
Large.
Very large.
The stone around it had been worn smooth by centuries of mist.
She drifted closer.
The waterfall hid her from the others.
Kaylor hated that immediately.
“How long?”
Fendor looked toward him.
“She has been gone ten seconds.”
“Too long.”
“She can hear you.”
“No, I can’t,” Nethnarel called from behind the falls.
Fendor smiled.
Kaylor did not.
Nethnarel moved deeper.
The chamber beyond the waterfall dwarfed the first.
A subterranean lake stretched into darkness.
Unlike the foul water of the upper cisterns, this lake was clear.
Unnaturally clear.
Pale light rose from somewhere beneath its surface.
Stone columns disappeared into the depths.
On the far side stood something constructed.
At first Nethnarel thought it was another bridge.
Then a wall.
Then a doorway.
Ancient architecture.
Older than Gildan.
Older perhaps than anything the Grand Sage had shown them.
She smiled.
Found it.
Then the lake moved.
A ridge broke the surface.
Nethnarel stopped.
The ridge was twenty feet long.
Then another section appeared behind it.
And another.
The creature beneath the water turned.
Its head rose.
Nethnarel forgot the temple.
The thing resembled a dragon only in the way a shark resembled a dagger.
The comparison was useful until one looked closely.
Its neck was long.
Its skull was angular and crowned with swept-back horns.
Great fins opened along its sides like folded wings.
Scales covered much of its body, though sections nearer the belly looked almost serpentine.
Its tail vanished beneath the water far behind the visible head.
The eyes opened.
Blue-white.
They settled directly upon her.
Nethnarel did not move.
The creature inhaled.
She moved.
The first blast hit the waterfall.
Water exploded outward.
Kaylor saw Nethnarel come through sideways.
She crossed the cavern far faster than she had entered it and struck the wall with enough force to knock loose stone into the pool.
Fendor already had the Oathbow raised.
“What?”
Nethnarel dropped to the ledge.
“Dragon.”
Kaylor smiled.
“Blue?”
“No.”
His smile disappeared.
“What kind?”
“Water.”
Fendor glanced at Hexen.
“Technical classification?”
“Good enough.”
The waterfall bulged.
Something enormous struck from behind it.
The entire sheet of falling water erupted into the cavern.
The creature’s head came through first.
Then its shoulders.
The body behind them seemed impossible.
Kaylor drew Peacemaker.
“That’s not a dragon.”
Nethnarel pushed herself up.
“I said it looked like one.”
“You said dragon.”
“We were busy.”
The beast opened its jaws.
Hexen shouted.
The water hit first.
Not ordinary water.
A compressed torrent blasted across the ledge with enough force to rip loose stones from the wall.
Fendor was thrown backward.
Kaylor planted his feet and slid.
Isamu simply disappeared.
For one terrible heartbeat Hexen thought the monk had been swept into the lower river.
Then Isamu landed on the creature’s neck.
Kaylor stared.
Fendor coughed water.
“Of course.”
Isamu struck.
The sea beast twisted violently.
He nearly lost his footing.
Nearly.
One hand caught a horn.
The other struck again.
The creature roared.
Then plunged backward through the waterfall.
Isamu went with it.
Kaylor moved immediately.
“Go.”
They crossed.
There was no caution now.
Fendor followed Kaylor through the water.
Hexen changed before entering.
His human shape broadened and dissolved into something built for the deep.
Nethnarel lifted again, fury replacing the surprise of her first encounter.
The chamber beyond the falls exploded into battle.
Isamu was still on the creature.
The fact surprised everyone except Isamu.
He rode the long neck as it cut through the lake, one hand gripping a ridge while the other delivered precise blows against the creature’s skull.
The sea beast dove.
Isamu released.
Water swallowed both.
Fendor reached the ledge and searched.
“No shot.”
Then Isamu broke the surface.
He ran across the water.
Behind him, the monster rose.
Fendor fired.
The arrow struck the creature above one eye.
It recoiled.
Kaylor hit it from the side.
Peacemaker bit into scales.
The sword’s black metal disappeared almost halfway into the beast before Kaylor tore it free.
The creature turned toward him.
That was what he wanted.
Mostly.
Its jaws closed.
Kaylor got the sword between them.
Teeth ground against enchanted steel.
The force drove him backward.
Hexen struck from below.
The druid’s transformed body slammed into the sea creature and forced its head upward.
Kaylor slipped free.
Nethnarel attacked from above.
Fire met wet scales and burst into steam.
The chamber vanished inside white mist.
Fendor fired through it anyway.
One arrow.
Then another.
The Oathbow knew its target even when his eyes did not.
The creature dove.
Water closed.
Everyone waited.
Nothing.
Fendor lowered the bow slightly.
“Where?”
Hexen felt movement through the lake.
“Under us.”
The beast erupted beneath Kaylor.
Its head struck him hard enough to launch him from the surface.
For one strange second the dragonborn flew.
Then he hit the lake.
Isamu jumped.
He landed beside the creature’s head.
His hands moved.
One strike.
Two.
Three.
The third carried something more.
The monster’s neck stiffened.
Its great body slowed.
Isamu’s eyes widened.
“It worked.”
Fendor understood.
“Hit it.”
Everyone did.
Kaylor surfaced and attacked with fury sharpened by embarrassment.
Fendor emptied arrows into exposed scales.
Nethnarel’s magic struck from above.
Hexen drove the transformed weight of his body into the creature’s flank.
For several seconds the sea beast could not react.
Then the paralysis broke.
It thrashed.
The lake became chaos.
The tail hit Hexen and threw him through the water.
One fin caught Isamu.
Kaylor was forced beneath the surface.
Nethnarel flew higher.
The creature looked up at her.
“Oh.”
The next attack came from its mouth.
Not water.
Energy.
A pale beam tore across the cavern.
Nethnarel twisted.
It caught one wing of magic.
The structure shattered.
She fell.
Fendor saw her drop.
Again.
“Neth!”
She caught herself before the lake.
Barely.
Her wings reformed in ragged light.
“I am getting tired of that.”
The beast disappeared below.
Fendor tracked the ripples.
“Do something clever.”
Hexen returned to human form on a rock shelf.
“That sounds like your job.”
“I shoot things.”
“You shoot them very cleverly.”
“Thank you.”
Kaylor surfaced.
“I have an idea.”
Fendor looked at him.
“No.”
“You don’t know what it is.”
“Correct.”
Kaylor grabbed the great chain.
Fendor stared.
The chain.
It emerged through a stone opening beside the waterfall and continued into the chamber.
They had assumed the section outside merely blocked passage.
They were wrong.
The chain extended into the lake.
And disappeared.
Kaylor pulled.
Something moved underwater.
Hexen understood.
“Again.”
Kaylor pulled harder.
A metal sound rolled through the cavern.
Far below.
The sea creature reacted.
Its head surfaced sharply.
Not attacking.
Looking.
The chain was connected to something in the lake.
An anchor.
A gate.
A mechanism.
Whatever it was, the monster knew it.
Kaylor pulled again.
The creature charged him.
“That worked.”
Fendor drew.
“You define that word badly.”
The Oathbow sang.
Arrow after arrow struck the beast as it crossed the lake.
Nethnarel followed with magic.
Isamu intercepted.
The sea monster tried to dive.
Hexen would not let it.
Roots could not grow in the underground lake.
The druid found another answer.
Water itself turned against the creature.
Current twisted.
A spiral formed around its body.
The beast fought the pull.
Kaylor released the chain.
Peacemaker came up.
He waited.
The monster lunged.
Kaylor stepped inside its jaws.
For an instant Fendor thought he had finally lost his mind.
Then the black greatsword rose.
The blow struck beneath the creature’s jaw.
Its head snapped upward.
Isamu hit the same place.
Fendor’s arrow followed.
Nethnarel’s spell struck last.
The beast froze.
Its body continued moving after the will inside it had ended.
Momentum carried it onto the stone shelf.
Water surged around the heroes.
The great head came to rest a few feet from Kaylor.
One eye remained open.
Then went dark.
Silence returned slowly.
Not true silence.
The waterfall remained.
Water moved.
The heroes breathed.
But after the violence, those sounds felt distant.
Isamu sat down on the dead creature’s neck.
Kaylor looked at him.
“Taking a tooth?”
Isamu considered.
“Maybe.”
Fendor lowered the Oathbow.
“Please don’t start a collection.”
Isamu looked toward the crocodile tooth already wrapped among his gear.
“Too late.”
Nethnarel landed.
Her clothing was soaked.
Her hair hung across her face.
One magical wing still flickered.
Fendor looked at her.
“You went alone.”
“I scouted.”
“You were hit through a waterfall.”
“I returned.”
“Sideways.”
Nethnarel pushed wet hair away.
“Still returned.”
Kaylor nodded.
“Good scouting.”
Fendor stared at him.
“Do not encourage her.”
“You encourage Isamu.”
“I absolutely do not.”
Hexen returned to his normal form.
“Everyone alive?”
They checked.
Yes.
That still mattered.
The creature’s lair occupied the far side of the lake.
They found it by following the deepest channel.
The water there had carved a hollow beneath an ancient stone platform. Bones lay within it, though nowhere near the number gathered beyond the waterfall. Armor. Weapons. Remains of packs and boxes.
And valuables.
The sea creature had not collected treasure deliberately.
It had collected victims.
Treasure was what survived them.
Nethnarel climbed onto the platform and began sorting.
Fendor watched.
“Of course.”
She looked over.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Coins.
Gems.
Old jewelry.
Several pieces of equipment too ruined to use.
A handful of objects still carrying magic.
Nothing was immediately clear enough to name with confidence.
They packed what could be carried and left the rest for later study.
Isamu found a second large tooth.
He compared it with the first.
Fendor noticed.
“No.”
Isamu put it away.
Kaylor walked farther.
The structure Nethnarel had glimpsed while scouting stood beyond the lair.
Not a wall.
Not exactly.
A facade.
Ancient stone emerged from the cavern itself.
Columns flanked a doorway tall enough for giants.
Carvings covered the stone.
Most had been worn by moisture, but enough remained to show figures kneeling before a central shape.
The central figure had no face.
Or perhaps it once had one and someone had removed it.
Above the doorway, wings had been carved into the stone.
Not dragon wings.
Feathered.
Nethnarel stopped beside Kaylor.
“Celestial.”
Hexen arrived.
“Maybe.”
“Those are feathers.”
“Celestials don’t own feathers.”
Fendor joined them.
“Is this another scholarly distinction?”
“No.”
“Good.”
The carving above the entrance had been damaged deliberately.
The head was gone.
The hands were gone.
Something around the torso had been chipped away.
Yet the shape remained.
A woman.
Winged.
Standing above kneeling figures.
Kaylor looked at Hexen.
“Varietal?”
Hexen did not answer immediately.
He moved closer.
The figure felt familiar.
Not because he remembered the carving.
Because he remembered what came after.
Stories.
Fragments.
Grazim’s old theology drifting through conversations years ago.
A being remembered under several names.
A celestial.
A fallen one.
The Naked Goddess.
Hexen looked toward the doorway.
“Could be.”
Fendor sighed.
“Back to probably.”
“Probably keeps us alive.”
Kaylor examined the stone floor.
A path had once run from the water to the entrance.
That was the strange part.
Not steps.
A path.
Perfectly straight.
Different stone had been laid through the natural cavern in a narrow band leading beneath the enormous doorway.
Most of it had disappeared under mineral deposits.
Still, the line was obvious.
Isamu stepped onto it.
The stone beneath his foot glowed.
Very faintly.
Everyone froze.
Isamu looked down.
The light traveled forward.
One stone.
Then the next.
Then the next.
A pale line awakened beneath the ancient doorway.
The doors opened.
Not quickly.
They moved inward with the sound of mountains grinding.
Cold air came through.
Not the wet cold of the lake.
A dry current.
Old.
Something beyond had remained sealed from the underground waterworks.
Fendor looked at Isamu.
“Did you mean to do that?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Darkness waited beyond the threshold.
Then one light appeared.
Far ahead.
Blue.
Another followed.
Then another.
A line of ancient lamps awakened one after the next.
They revealed a corridor.
Not ruined.
Preserved.
The walls were covered in carvings.
Winged figures.
Stars.
Circles.
Chains.
And farther down—
A shape in the stone.
Horned.
Bound.
Kaylor stepped forward.
Nethnarel caught his arm.
He looked at her.
She pointed toward the wall beside the door.
More writing had appeared as the old magic awakened.
The language was older than the warning at the chain.
Nethnarel needed longer this time.
Hexen watched her expression change as she translated.
“What?”
She looked toward the corridor.
“It isn’t a temple.”
Fendor frowned.
“What is it?”
Nethnarel read the inscription again.
“A path.”
Nobody spoke.
The blue lamps continued into the darkness.
Kaylor looked down the ancient road beneath Gildan.
At its beginning stood the image of a fallen celestial.
Farther in, a horned servant had been carved in chains.
And somewhere ahead lay whatever generations had considered important enough to bury beneath one city after another until even the scholars above had forgotten it existed.
Hexen tightened his grip on the Staff of the Woodlands.
The warning at the chain returned to him.
Death lies beyond.
Perhaps it had not referred to the creature they had killed.
Perhaps that had merely been the first thing guarding the way.
Fendor stared down the illuminated passage.
“We can still go upstairs.”
Kaylor stepped onto the path.
“No.”
Isamu followed.
Nethnarel sighed and went after them.
Hexen smiled despite himself.
Fendor remained alone beside the doorway for half a heartbeat.
“Every time.”
Then he followed his friends into the dark.
Behind them, the underground lake moved quietly around the corpse of its dead guardian.
Ahead, the blue lights continued waking.
One by one.
Leading deeper beneath Gildan.
Toward the path of the Naked Goddess.