⚔ ℑ𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔗𝔥𝔢 ℭ𝔞𝔯𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔰 𝔅𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 ⚔
⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆
The storm swallowed them whole the moment they left the last lantern behind.
Wind hammered the jetty with salt-heavy breath, and waves crashed so violently against the pilings that the whole dock trembled beneath their boots. Rain came down in sheets, turning the world into a smear of darkness punctuated only by the occasional lightning flash.
Mikhail’s spell-threaded notes pulsed ahead of the group like faint fireflies in the void —
a guiding star through a night meant to drown intruders.
The crooked jetty creaked beneath them as they moved toward the black silhouette of the Bastion’s seawall. The guard post was abandoned; its brazier cold, door hanging open like a mouth mid-scream. A boot print in the mud showed someone had fled, not walked.
The storm had emptied the docks better than any bribe could.
At the very end of the jetty, where the pilings sank into the churning surf, the entrance finally revealed itself during a strike of lightning.
A circular rusted grate, half-torn from its hinges, jutted from the stone wall like a rotten jaw. Black water surged in and out, sucking greedily at the edges. A stench of brine, rust, and rot blasted outward with every wave.
The stench hit first.
A rush of black water spilled past the group’s boots as they crowded into the gaping storm drain, the filth frothing with foam and floating debris. The tunnel swallowed them in one wet gulp, devouring the last of the storm’s light the moment they stepped inside.
Thunder boomed behind them, muted now — like distant drums echoing through a graveyard.
Inside, the air was thick and humid, clinging to the skin. Moss and fungal patches glowed faintly on the walls, sickly green veins winding over the stone. Somewhere in the dark, water dripped steadily in uneven rhythms. Rats skittered along the far edges, tails slapping against the brick.
The soundward bubble gave them silence…
But the silence inside the tunnel was worse.
Ahead, the old smugglers’ drainage artery slanted downward in a long curve, disappearing into blackness. Iron bars once meant to block entry now hung twisted and snapped aside — rust-eaten from years of tidewater and something stronger.
Far ahead, a faint vibration trembled underfoot.
Not footsteps.
Not machinery.
Something deeper.
A hum like the Bastion itself was breathing.
After several minutes of trudging through knee-high water, the tunnel opened into a larger intersection — a forgotten maintenance chamber beneath Carceris’ underbelly.
Three paths stretched before them:
The leftmost tunnel was narrow, the ceiling low, forcing taller members to duck. A cold wind blew from that direction, carrying the metallic tang of iron… and something else. Something sharp, clean, and freshly disturbed.
A splash echoed from its depths.
Then a hiss.
Something alive was down there.
Straight ahead, a wide tunnel sloped upward toward what looked like a sealed grate — but the grate was old, bolts rusted halfway through.
Symbols carved into the stones suggested this was once a contraband route. Someone had scratched marks into the wall as recently as a year ago.
And between those marks?
A faint scrap of rope — the kind smugglers used to pull crates silently through the dark.
The current tugged from this direction, gentle, steady.
Not threatening, but promising a long route.
The rightmost passage smelled less like rot and more like chemicals — alchemical runoff, sharp enough to sting the nostrils.
Something glowed faintly ahead.
Orange. Flickering.
Torchlight.
And voices.
Two guards, speaking out of sight around a corner:
“—Warden says the beasts hit the labs first. You seen what was left? Gods…”“Shut it. I’m not goin’ down there alone again.”Their shadows stretched like long fingers across the wet stone.
That route led directly toward the lower laboratory floors — the same floors now stripped of guards in the chaos.
A shortcut.
But a dangerous one.
The sewer chamber rumbled as another shockwave rolled through the stone above. Dust drifted from the ceiling. Chains could be heard rattling far overhead.
The Bastion was awake and uneasy.
Somewhere above, prisoners screamed.
And farther still, something roared — a guttural, monstrous sound that the pipes did little to muffle.
