When Heroes Die

"Skitter, skitter, crawl and creep

Hunger, hunger, never sleep

Deeper down below the ground

The song of famine doth resound"

— Scholar's interpretation of a series of charcoal rubbings taken of Ratling claw marks, page five.

I woke up to the sound of crackling meat and the scent of smoke from a fire. I waited for my eyes to adjust to the light before planning to start my early morning spam message to the Gods Above. That was when an epiphany struck.

The Book of All Things differed from region to region. I knew that. I had read over multiple versions of it. It hadn't occurred to me until now what that truly meant.

It meant that the original version of it had probably been penned by people and not the Gods. I was embarrassed it had taken me so long to figure that out. The revelation was so obvious. There was no reason for me to pray like this at all. The Gods Above were fine with any form of guidance. If they weren't, their holy book would have been prescribed and not interpreted by us.

The realization reframed my goals. This wasn't about convincing the Gods which form of guidance was correct. It was about persuading the people living in Creation.

I didn't need to ask the Gods Above to leave my dream alone. If my dream functioned, then they would be happy to. It would almost certainly be a condition where my definition of guidance would be adopted over any other. It would have to be, because it would be the most successful ideology.

The discovery left me feeling at a bit of a loss. Praying was a daily ritual for me now. It was an ingrained habit that I didn't want to just give up. If I wasn't going to keep praying purely to annoy the Gods Above, then what would I pray for?

Guidance.

There was no reason not to ask for help, even if I didn't receive it. They were there, and they almost certainly heard and saw everything. Guidance was what the side of Good championed, so guidance was what I would ask for.

So I sat and prayed. I was about to stand up, when something else occurred to me. It was something that was important.

People saw me as a priestess. There were no surprises there, I dressed like one. It bothered me. Not because I had a problem with being seen as being a priestess, but because I didn't want to give people a false impression of what I was. I didn't want to hide one of the very few items that were significant to me. I also didn't want to be mistaken for something that I was not.

That created a conundrum.

I had liked every devout member of the faith that I had met so far. I doubted that would hold true if I met the more ambitious priests — the ones who were trying to grab power — but the people lower down that I had met were definitely trying to do good.

Heroes in Creation were by definition a part of the organizational structure of the church. Just by existing, I represented the faith. I knew that. I understood that. It didn't change how I felt.

Being mistaken for a priestess when I wasn't faithful to the Gods Above themselves — even if I did trust their guidance — made me feel like a fraud.

But… did it have to stay that way? I wasn't opposed to giving sermons on principle. They were just another form of guidance, although it was probably best if I avoided being the one giving speeches entirely. The part I struggled with was placing blind faith in a higher power. Trusting that I could close my eyes and let them lead me to safety. It felt wrong to preach faith in the Gods Above when I didn't have it myself.

It was something for me to think about.

I finished praying and stood up, then took a moment to make myself presentable and exited our mountainside shelter.

"Morning Taylor you're finally awake I wanted to wake you earlier but the Saint suggested letting you have some rest before the hard part of our journey begins she also caught us breakfast isn't that nice of her?" Yvette babbled.

Laurence and Yvette sat around a fire. Laurence had evidently caught an animal of some kind at some point this morning, because there was part of one on a spit over the open flames. Its carcass had been thoroughly repurposed. There was a mess of gore downwind of us that included the remaining bones.

"Good morning," I greeted them. "What's for breakfast?"

"It's a mountain goat the animal wandered near the fortress you made we're quite lucky most animals are eaten by Ratlings so this is unusual."

"Good morning, Taylor," Laurence replied gruffly.

I approached and sat down next to Yvette. I'd been thinking about how I wanted to deal with Yvette's explosion and I'd finally made up my mind.

"Yvie, I wanted to talk about yesterday," I began.

"I'm not sorry the Ratlings deserved to die and I'd kill them again so don't ask me not to I'm not changing my mind," she chattered defensively.

"It's not about that."

She looked taken aback. "Oh well then what did you want to talk about was my spell work too sloppy I thought I did a good job-"

"The problem was how you killed them," I interjected.

"You transmute things all the time it's not fair why can't I do that as well."

"It's not the same," I challenged. "I'm in control of the situation every step of the way. The outcome is assured before I even begin. What you did was dangerous. You didn't really have any control of the result. Imagine if you had accidentally made a plague or created some new monster."

"But that would be really unlikely the chances of making something that is actually alive like that are tiny and it's a really effective weapon-"

"You should listen to Taylor, kid," Laurence spoke up roughly. "Wizards — even the finest of you are only ever one shift of the tides of curiosity away from drowning in the sea of Evil," she turned to the side and spat.

Yvette's skin paled in dawn's light at the interruption.

"You know how to use the magical staples. Fireballs, lightning bolts and more. Why do you keep risking experimental magic?"

"I just want to make you proud and I can't do that if I stick to normal magic like everyone else how am I supposed to be worth travelling with heroes if I can't do anything special," she mumbled under her breath.

"I'm proud of you when you're being responsible." I consoled her. "When you come up with new ideas and test them carefully. You don't need to take risks for me to want you around."

Yvette faced the ground and said nothing in response.

"I know how awful grief is," I continued. "Taking it out on the world doesn't make life any better. I tried that as well six to seven years ago. I felt angry, trapped, like I couldn't find a way out. So I made a new face for myself. A new life. An escape where I could express all the emotions I didn't normally let myself show."

"And you're telling me it didn't make your life any better I don't believe that if the Ratlings were all gone then I would be able to move on and not think about what happened I'm sure of it anyhow the meat is starting to look ready when are we going to eat?" Yvette's head snapped back up as she started to argue once more.

"I won't lie to you. In some ways it did help, but in other ways it didn't. In a lot of ways, it made my life worse. I kept making one worse decision after another."

Laurence started pulling the meat off of the spit. Absently, I turned some rocks into cutlery and crockery, then floated the dinnerware over to her. She stared at the collection of dishes warily for a few moments. It was as if she was appraising a venomous snake. Eventually, she made up her mind and grabbed my offering out of the air.

"How are you doing that?" Laurence inquired.

"I can feel the world around me. It's like it's a part of me. I'm telling it to change."

"Tariq would call what you have a domain. You should stick to only a single interpretation of it. Don't dilute your faith the way you currently are. Decide what purpose guides you and stay true to it. The purity of it will grant you strength," Laurence advised.

"I'll keep that in mind."

It sounded like well-intentioned advice that would have been useful if I actually had a domain.

"Then what would you do just let it go and let the deaths go unavenged and I'm not willing to do that." Yvette responded.

"Find a better way. The Chain of Hunger isn't disappearing unless you cure their sickness or kill them all. I doubt the latter will work."

"Why don't you think they can't all be killed everything dies eventually none of us will live forever I just need to find the right kind of working." Yvette's eyes were hard while she spoke.

"I won't tell you that revenge won't feel good, at least for a little while." I replied. "But how long would it take? Dealing with the Chain of Hunger is likely the work of a lifetime. Are you wanting to devote your entire life to this?"

"Think beyond keeping the kid's hands clean, Taylor," Laurence mused. "Consider the many centuries of suffering that would come to an end were she to succeed. I believe this to be a worthy purpose, one that the kid should strive for."

Why doesn't that surprise me?

"What did you learn from your experiments I saw you doing something to them during the fight and I know you weren't just trying to kill them so obviously you learned something."

Laurence finished dishing up the meal and passed it out to all of us. The meat was tough, but still good. I wished that I had salt.

"They would die if you stopped the curse. I don't know how to do that. I've been thinking about it."

"A sword does not bend. Make no attempt at saving them. They were made into what they are now long ago and the culprit likely died painfully. That does not mean we should spare them the blade." Laurence declared.

"Removing their hunger would kill them unless you replaced it with something else. I don't know how to do that. It's more complicated than it seems. The hunger is alive, sentient. It isn't like you can just swap it out with just anything."

"So I just need to-"

"You need to find a healthier way to handle your grief," I interjected.

Yvette glared up at me sullenly.

Putting aside my meal for a moment, I climbed off the rock I was sitting on and knelt on the ground in front of her so that our eyes were level with each other.

"I'm here for you. Don't do the same stupid shit I did. It took me years to fix my life afterwards."

Yvette turned away and said nothing in response.

Days had passed. Laurence led us further and further north. Encounters with Ratlings became more frequent. Other signs of life had become sparse. Eventually, it became difficult to find food for Sisyphus. To my embarrassment, I needed to waste several hours learning how to make oats.

"How are you following the Ratlings?" I asked from the back of our mount.

We were travelling along the side of a mountain that was nothing but bare rock. There wasn't even dirt to make tracks in.

"I am listening to the groove they leave in the current of Creation," Laurence answered cryptically.

No, not listening. She's Listening.

We rounded a large outcropping and all three of us ground to a halt. A gigantic, cavernous maw opened up in the ground ahead of us. The edges were cracked and large amounts of rubble marked out the opening. We approached closer.

The entrance was at least thirty feet wide. Leaning over the edge, I looked inside. The interior of the cavern below was unusually tubular and continued to slope down the mountain towards the north. I was a few moments away from declaring the cave artificial when Yvette spoke up from in front of me.

"Oh some books my old tutors made me read mentioned these but I never thought I'd see one look at those repeated lines on the side of the wall they mark the height where the lava flows do you think the Ratlings use these to travel it would explain how they reached here."

Yvette leaned forward and pointed as she chattered. I had to grab her and pull her back to prevent her from tumbling off of Sisyphus's back down into the cave.

Taking that information into account, I turned around and squinted in the direction of the mountain peak. Unfortunately, it was occluded by the clouds above. Maybe it was a dormant volcano. It wasn't possible for me to judge.

"Is this the right way?" I asked.

"This is where we need to go in." Laurence affirmed.

I created a glowing white light for us to follow. Yvette and I dismounted. Our poor horse didn't need to carry our weight while we navigated such precarious terrain. All three of us started to make our way in.

Progress was quick at first. The tunnel proceeded in a single direction, and it wasn't as if we could become lost. We followed deeper towards the north. There was an eerie, howling wind from within that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. The air became both hotter and damper the further we descended.

None of us dared to speak as we progressed.

Hours passed.

Eventually, we reached another hole in the floor. We stopped to investigate. We had yet to run into more Ratlings and all of us were on edge. To my dismay, the hole was where the Saint's senses told us we had to go. There was just one problem.

"The only sensible solution to a maze is to not enter the maze," Laurence quoted firmly.

"Does this count as a maze?" I asked dubiously.

The cave below differed substantially from the tunnels we had been moving around in. Not in size — it was still possible for giant rats to walk in them while standing up — but in shape. There were several branches moving off from each other, and it wasn't immediately obvious which way we needed to go.

"I don't think it's a maze look over here at these markings on the walls I think they're directions telling the Ratlings where to go but how do you read them I didn't know the Ratlings had a written language why did nobody tell me?" Yvette asked.

I followed the path of her finger to where she was pointing.

Symbols had been gouged deep into the walls of the cave by large claws.

"I don't know, Yvie." I turned my attention to Laurence. "Can you read those?"

She pursed her lips and moved closer. I followed behind. After a couple of hundred heartbeats of both of us studying them, Laurence eventually shook her head.

"The current of Creation in this place has been suborned to one of these longtail's wills. The feeling is uncanny. All of us should keep our blades in hand and our wits sharp."

I examined the markings further. Something about them tickled the back of my mind. As if they should be familiar. I doubted the exact symbology I was looking at would be something I recognized, so it was likely more the structure they were arranged in. They were grouped into small clusters of symbols — there was one cluster of symbols beside each tunnel — and almost seemed to tell some kind of story.

"I don't think those markings are directions, but I'm not sure what they are." I declared, "Can you lead us anyway?"

Laurence cocked her head to the side for a few moments and listened. The rest of us waited awkwardly.

"I can guide us," she stated with absolute certainty, "but food first."

I created some seating for us and sealed off the side passages while Laurence rummaged around and started to prepare a meal. I was a better cook than her, but I let her be. Laurence seemed to like having the opportunity to play the role of the kindly grandmother, and it was when she was playing that role that she was nicest.

I'd let her adopt that Role whenever she chose to do so.

That left me with more time to examine the writing. I didn't think I would be able to make sense of it, but I could bring it back to a scholar to examine. I focused and created a sheet of paper and some charcoal, then started to create a rubbing of it.

Laurence looked at me oddly for a moment, before speaking up. "It is best not to risk too much curiosity, lest you start tumbling down the slippery slope and fall into Evil."

"I'm not going to," I replied, exasperated.

She had been on edge ever since we had entered the tunnels. Not that I blamed her. I was consciously filtering out sounds and smells around us, just so that we weren't swarmed.

"What are you doing?"

"Making a record of this. Maybe someone can figure out what it says. Preserve their culture in history books."

"This place does not deserve to be recorded."

"If we don't remember it, then it will be repeated."

"It would be beyond even the ambitions of the Warlocks of Praes to recreate a tragedy as great as this one," she rejoined.

"See it as an examination of their weaknesses. A tool that can be used to fight them in future."

That appeared to mollify Laurence. Dealing with her was exhausting at times like this.

Finished with my record keeping, I shoved the paper into a pouch on the side of our mount.

It didn't take long until we were seated in a triangle. There was an easy camaraderie as we shared a bite to eat.

"You've told me before about the things you regret and there were lots of them was that really all true or are you just trying to make me feel better?" Yvette asked quietly.

There was an intensity to her that I was not used to seeing.

"It's all true."

Yvette's shoulders sagged. "Then what should I do?" she whispered. "Should I try to stop the Ratlings or should I do something else?" Her voice trembled.

"That isn't a question you need to answer right away," I answered, "but I'll listen to anything you want to tell me. I won't judge you. I promise…" My voice trailed off as I paused to gather my thoughts. "If it will help you, I'll answer almost any questions you ask me as well. Even uncomfortable ones."

Our stop was brief. It wasn't long until we set off once more. We were progressing further down. The descent was gradual and winding. It would take a while before we reached the bottom.

"Taylor?" Yvette spoke up once more from beside me.

"Yes Yvie?"

"When we stop again, would you mind helping me braid my hair?" Yvette sounded extremely vulnerable. As if me refusing would break something.

"Can you tell me why?"

"I — My mother used to braid my hair before she died."

The answer struck my gut like a lightning bolt. It hurt in both a bad and a good way.

Time slowed to a crawl for a moment.

People with names — all of us — were broken in some way. There was some fundamental aspect to us that was missing. It was almost like we were not entirely whole and the piece that was the Name was filling in for what should be there.

I didn't want Yvette to earn a Name. That didn't mean that she wouldn't.

Although she had started out in the Role of my apprentice, Yvette had quickly outgrown it. I wasn't teaching her much when it came to magic any more, she was experimenting entirely on her own. No, despite what Laurence thought, there was an entirely different Role that it seemed like Yvette would fill. I was able to feel the general shape that it was taking, and it did concern me.

The reasons it worried me were entirely unrelated to falling into the role of a mentor.

The Name she had been moving towards up until now felt like it occupied a Role involving otherworldly creatures in some way. I suspected that it was defined by her attempts at replicating the effects of demons. Despite using my nature as a blueprint, it hadn't been personal enough for me to peer far enough into Yvette's budding story to adequately judge.

With those few words she had spoken, the outline of Yvette's nascent Name had abruptly changed. I cast my gaze forward and considered the new lay of possibilities. It was my choice, not hers, that would determine the new shape her Name continued to take.

She had passed the decision on to me.

What should I do?

The road forks. I consider the first decision that was available to me. What happens when I reject her request? Yvette withdraws, she loses faith in me. Her heart hardens and we separate after our quest comes to an end. She returns fully fledged as a member of Cordelia's court, bitter and angry at my rejection.

The vision terminates there along that path. It is impersonal, hard to follow because I play little part in it.

No. No, that won't do.

I consider the next path. The road where I reject her and sever her Name deliberately. Yvette returns to Cordelia's court, but finds herself considered unremarkable there. Yvette is no longer content to remain with ordinary tutors. Bitter and angry, she heads north once more. Only a few months later, she dies at the claws of a Rat.

I'm not willing to accept that ending, either.

What next?

The branch where I accept but break the Name.

Yvette is happy to be with me at first, but as time goes on she becomes morose. She wants a Name — she needs a Name — but finds herself denied. Her mood darkens and one day she reaches too far, only to claim her own life in the process.

Please let there be a better option.

With great trepidation, I considered the next option.

What would happen if I accepted her request? To my surprise, there was more than one way it could play out. The first is dangerous. Dangerous for me. I accept Yvette's request in the spirit it is offered, and find myself back in the Role of the mentor. The journey continues and Yvette finds herself threatened. She overreaches and calls upon magic that the Saint is unwilling to tolerate. Laurence attacks and I move to defend Yvette.

I perish in the assault.

No, not that story. Even if I were to pre-empt the Saint's attack, it would likely end in tears.

What else is there?

I could give her what she truly wants, but she's too afraid to ask for.

The journey continues, we confront our foe, and this time it does not end in tragedy. In time, Yvette comes into a Name. It's a Name defined by her relationship to me. I try to reach further, to see what that Name is. I cannot. It lies behind the veil of other decisions. Decisions that have yet to be made.

I'm too young to be a mom, let alone hers!

Everything about this choice scared me. I couldn't replace her family. I had only been responsible for Yvette for a brief period of time. Not years. Not anywhere near long enough. This wasn't a situation I had expected to be in any time soon. That didn't mean I couldn't do my best. A part of me felt that I should refuse, much like I had refused Songbird. I squashed it brutally.

This wasn't the same set of circumstances.

As far ahead as I could see, this was the story where everyone appeared to be happy at the end.

So I made a choice and plunged off a cliff into the chasm below.

I seized Yvette tightly in a hug. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"If you'll have me as your mother, then I'll always be your guardian angel," I whispered to her softly.

Given all other circumstances, I'd be the best mother I could for her. It was a promise. A promise that I intended to keep. It was the least I could do for her. If I was committing to this story, then I would commit to it with everything that I had.

"You'll really be my ma?" she asked hesitantly.

"I will," I confirmed.

She buried her head in my robes and squeezed me back tighter. Someone was sniffing. I couldn't tell if it was me or her. My eyes were certainly watering as well.

I felt warm inside. A sad smile tugged at the edge of my lips, and I allowed it to show.

I'll handle this… somehow.

Laurence's eyes bored into me with a look that said she considered my death was already confirmed.

"I hope you're happy Yvette, you've as good as driven a blade through Taylor's heart yourself," she declared.

I didn't bother to correct her.

Yvette, no, my daughter — if I was accepting this story then I would commit to it even in my thoughts, I wouldn't go into this half-heartedly — felt like she was about to pull away in shock. I hugged her tighter.

"I'll always be here for you," I told her. "I promise."

Yvette relaxed once more. I wasn't surprised that she chose to believe me instead.

Despite how the passages kept descending, I suspected that we remained at roughly the same distance from the surface. This was because we had passed numerous exits to the cave so far, and none of them were that high up. The exits were where Ratling activity was always the greatest. There was almost a constant thrum of movement at the passages leading above. Laurence directed us to keep following a trail that led further in.

I consciously muffled the sounds and smells we made as we progressed. I also veiled our presence. Laurence might want to wade through rivers of blood, but I had no interest in it. We could find our target and kill it, then make our way out. What I was doing didn't escape from her notice, but she didn't choose to complain.

Maybe she could be goal oriented when the goal still involved killing Evil after all.

Any Ratlings we encountered would be accidental, not deliberate.

The warren — that was what I was thinking of it as — was labyrinthine. The path branched off more frequently the further we went and in multiple directions, both horizontally and vertically. Not all the branches were the same size. Some were much larger than others. Many were so small that only a creature a fraction of our size could fit.

The movement of the Ratlings was like the low murmur of an ever present river in the background. Even if we couldn't see them, it was impossible to ignore the fact that they were somewhere within the caverns.

The Saint had us stick to the largest tunnels.

It took a while, but eventually I noticed a commonality to the cadence of the noise made by the Ratling's movements. It gave me the smallest of insights into what was going on within the warrens. They always travelled in the same direction. None of them went against the flow of traffic. It was uncanny and couldn't be natural.

The longer we travelled inside the grotto, the more there was for us to see.

"More Ratlings up ahead," I warned.

It was easy for me to act as a lookout when I could feel them around us.

We entered a new chamber when the Saint sprung to attack. Her blade cleared its scabbard, she was across the room in the blink of an eye, and before I could even move I could hear the final gurgling squeal of a Ratling.

I suppressed a shudder.

I still did not like being in her presence. It did not matter that she was clearly on our side.

I took a moment to look around the room.

Bones of dead creatures were stacked neatly against one of the walls. Some had been assembled into makeshift rickshaws. Others had been turned into tools. Bones that had been yet to be put to use were organized carefully into ordered rows. They were arranged in a manner that suggested there was a system in place that determined how they should be used. Some bones were in the process of being shaped and carved.

An Ancient One that had been saddled to one of the rickshaws had been busy moving the bones at the behest of some of their handlers before Laurence had cut them all down.

I walked up beside both Laurence and the beast.

"Why didn't it fight back against the smaller rats?"

She leaned down and pulled up its lips, then gestured to an unhealthy purple swelling on the inside of its gums.

"There are many plants that grow in the Chain of Hunger that are fatally toxic to all but the most hardy creatures. One type of berry causes hallucinations and mellows you out before you die. The smaller Ratlings use them to keep their elders docile, else they would dine on their own kid's entrails." Laurence's lips curled up in distaste.

Of course. The Ancient Ones were being drugged to keep them compliant. Why wouldn't they be?

"Why don't they use them during sieges?"

"It's not useful when the Ratlings launch a raid because it makes the beasts too calm."

Whether they were being used as siege weapons or beasts of burden, their fate disgusted me.

Melancholy had begun to set in. The Ratlings definitely had some kind of warped civilization. A culture that I was observing from the outside. It didn't change that the kindest ending for them was still one that involved death. It would take a miracle to mend this society built on the seeds of starvation.

We picked up our pace once more.

We passed through another room showing signs of industry. This one contained mobile forges designed to be easily moved around. I was gradually putting together a picture in my mind of how their civilization operated. It seemed like they were nomadic. Everything they had was designed to be easily transported.

It made sense. With their hunger, they could not afford to remain in one place.

Travelling in the tunnels was unnerving. Without Laurence to guide the way, Yvette and I would be hopelessly lost. It didn't help that the pitter-patter of footfalls reverberated from all around us at all hours. They weren't close, but they didn't have to be for the sound to carry.

There was a haunting melody to the echo of the Ratlings scurrying throughout the cave.

The skittering of claws on the rocks below was conducted as if part of an orchestra. It was like music played out by the falls of Ratling feet. Even Laurence was on edge.

It struck me then what the markings on the walls were. It was musical notation, albeit not a notation that I was familiar with.

I couldn't even imagine the sheer complexity of managing this many performers at once.

The Ratlings were using music not just as entertainment, but as a method of communication and navigation as well. It was as if the entire story of their species played out according to a song. The symphony of their footfalls played out frantically. It was frenzied, frenetic. It reminded me of Flight of the Bumblebee, only with claws and squeaks for instruments.

This… performance alone had put rest to the idea that the Ratlings had no culture. I wasn't certain of what culture they had. It wasn't possible to stop and ask them. None of them could talk in a language that we spoke. That didn't change the obvious. They had writing, they made tools and they certainly had music.

The sounds we were hearing were far too organized to be anything except deliberate.

It made me feel sick. What could the Ratlings create if they weren't almost entirely consumed by their hunger?

I distracted myself from thinking about it by focusing on a bigger problem.

My largest concern at the moment was the growing sense of hunger all around me. The closer we approached the plains to the north, the stronger that it became. It had seeped into the world. Worse, it was definitely intelligent. I had expected to overwrite its influence with my own. That was not what had happened. The hunger had retreated instead. It pulled back wherever it was that I happened to approach.

There was a mind behind this monstrosity. A force that I believed couldn't be anything except malevolent.

We had rounded another bend when I felt something huge enter the edge of my range.

"Stop!" I whispered out stiffly.

Nobody ignored my advice.

"What is it, Taylor?" Laurence asked.

My daughter, remained entirely subdued. She had been for a while. I suspected that the totality of what the Ratlings truly were had finally occurred to her.

"I can feel something up ahead. Something huge and hungry."

"You're sure about what you sense?"

"I am."

Laurence immediately sped up.

A few more turns inside the caverns, and the cave opened up into an absolutely massive chamber. Sisyphus came to a halt behind us. I moved closer to him and tugged on his reins gently, but he refused to move.

Odd.

He was a trained warhorse, it was not normal for him to flinch. I tugged harder. He flicked his dappled ears at me dismissively, then nipped at the air near my hand with his teeth.

I pulled my hand back quickly and glared at the horse. He snorted at me.

There was loud crunching coming from the room behind me.

I turned around once more.

It took a while for my eyes to adjust. Light spilled in from above. The ceiling of the cavern broke through to the surface. It was breathtaking. Rows of unevenly spaced jagged red crystals extending upwards like a forest of alien trees towards the sky. Glyphs had been inscribed into them. They reverberated, resonating with the melody played out by the clamouring of rats throughout the cave.

I was about to take a step into the chamber when Laurence's left arm shot out in front of me and barred the way.

She had already drawn her sword and pointed with the end of it.

I followed the direction of the blade as it glinted against the light of my orb.

At the other end of the room was an absolutely monstrous pile of something that slowly shifted from side to side. At first, I thought it was just a part of the environment. A massive boulder over a hundred feet tall sitting in the middle of an open clearing further ahead.

It was hard to make out the shape past the dense jungle of scarlet.

It was only after taking a moment to re-evaluate what I saw that I realized it was a gigantic horned rat. Despite remaining more or less in place, it was moving its lower body rhythmically on the opposite end of the cavern. Moving, as if it was dancing to the music that the other Ratlings were playing out. Bones littered the floor beneath it. Bones that had been picked clinically clean.

"Taylor, Yvette, stay out of it until I give the signal." Laurence whispered urgently.

She had started to back away. My daughter and I did so as well.

"No being reckless. Don't think with the dick you don't have. The signal is-" the Saint's voice cut off.

The Horned Lord's head turned ponderously towards us. The body of a smaller rat was stuck between enormous yellowed teeth.

Two large red eyes blinked.

Two large red eyes that were now facing our way.