Chapter 2

Good Morning, Faren

Faren kicked down the tavern door and scanned the dim room with frantic urgency. Empty bed. No gear. Supplies picked over. He was gone.

“Fuck,” she muttered, dragging her fingers down her face before screaming, “FUUUUCK! That stupid fuck!”

Bootsteps thundered down the hall as the rest of the party slid to a halt outside the open doorway. They stood silently, watching Faren heave with rage.

A small elf with dark skin stepped forward. She looked no older than twenty but was likely several centuries old. Her particular faction was sensitive to light. In the dead of night, she could see a mile away in excruciating detail, but without specialized gear, she was nearly blind during the day. Even in this dark room, she wore a blindfold woven with blessed cloth—said to let her see “everything under the sun as if it were under the moon.”

Of course, that was just the sales pitch. She often complained she'd overpaid for a glorified rag. But she could still fight just fine. Everything just looked blue.

With some hesitation, she placed a hand on Faren’s shoulder. “We’ll find him, Faren. He couldn’t have gone far. I saw him leave the bar last night with some blonde whore. Maybe he's just in her room.” She smirked. “Bound. Gagged. Robbed. But alive.”

Faren shoved Cordelia’s hand off and whipped around, mockingly flipping back her hood and letting her blonde hair smack the dark elf in the face.

Without flinching, Cordelia said, “Ah… you’re trying to tell me that’s blonde? When did you get that done?”

“When I was born!” Faren’s hands clawed the air in exasperation. “You’ve seen me at night hundreds of times!”

“You’re always wearing a hood!”

“I have BANGS!” Faren yanked her hood back on and jabbed a finger at her forehead. “Look! You can still see those! And these two longer strands I let fall outside the hood—” She pulled the ribbons of hair down onto her chest plate. “—because I think it looks neat.”

“It does look cool,” Cordelia admitted. Then gesturing to her magic blindfold, “It also looks BLUE.”

“BUT NOT AT NIGHT!”

“At night you’re usually covered in blood, dirt, and shit!”

“You called me a WHORE!”

“I meant it as a profession!”

“Enough of this,” said a deep voice.

A tall demon-kin named Smog entered the room next. Without sparing them a glance, he marched to the window and flung it open. “Might as well let some light in.”

Without warning, Faren drew her single-handed black-and-ebony crossbow and aimed it at his back.

“Took you long enough, bud. I was running out of ‘vamp,’” she said flatly. “Smog, you know what my arrows are coated with—and what happens to your insides when they pierce your heart.”

The six-and-a-half-foot demon-kin sighed, his broad shoulders sinking. “I see. You were just trying to get me inside.” He raised his clawed hands slowly. “May I turn around, Faren?”

“No. You may not,” she said coldly.

“Faren, please,” came a soft voice.

The last party member entered—pale and slender, a half-breed between elf and human. His long black hair was streaked with silver. As he stepped forward, his black and green robes brushed the dusty floor.

“Let him explain.”

Cordelia moved suddenly. With a gust of wind, she flung the frail Maximus across the room, slamming him upside down against the wall next to Smog. His robes fluttered down, revealing smooth calves and a pair of briefs adorned with small cats stitched on them.

Cordelia chuckled and conjured a sharp icicle from the moisture in the room. She spun it like a drill, inching it toward Maximus’s crotch.

Still aiming at Smog, Faren gave her a slight nod.

“Y-you two planned this?” Maximus muttered in a panic. “You both knew?”

Cordelia laughed. “I don’t know shit, Maxxy. Not really. But if Faren thinks you two deserve to be pinned to a wall, there’s probably a damn good reason.”

Faren didn’t smile. She was too upset. But she wanted to. In just a few words, Cordelia had read her perfectly. Faren hadn’t even decided what to do with Maximus yet—hadn’t let on she suspected him as much as Smog. But Cordelia had responded flawlessly. She’d picked up on everything.

They were getting close, Faren knew. A year and a half traveling together would do that. But it was heartwarming, nonetheless to see she had her back.

“Talk,” Faren commanded.

Silence fell for a moment.

Finally, the demon-kin spoke, voice low and slow. “We know you two aren’t going to kill us.”

That answer enraged Faren.

They’d all gotten their hands dirty. No. Drenched. For the good of the world. Before this journey, Faren had only killed once. Now—countless.

She’d told herself it was all for a better world. That if she sullied her soul with bloodshed, maybe the next generation wouldn’t have to. But now? It felt like it was all for nothing.

She hurled her crossbow across the room. It smashed a tacky painting on the wall.

“WHY? We made a decision. We TOLD you not to look!”

Cordelia glanced at her, gears turning, then looked at Smog. “You—you didn’t?” She turned to Maximus. “You both did?”

About a month ago, the party had reached a source of ancient power—said to hold the secret to saving the world. A force so potent, each of them could, alone, defeat the Hell Mage.

Like most things, it was too good to be true.

Chapter 3 PREVIEW

Too Good to Be True

One month ago.

The party lay scattered across the partially destroyed cavern, deep within the ancient dungeon. They had fought through hordes of husked soldiers to get there—until finally, they reached the ancient Decan and beheaded him.

His large, swollen, hollowed corpse now lay motionless on the stone floor, dark black ooze flowing from its neck, further staining the already tattered and muddied robes.

They didn’t know what religion he had served, or what purpose this cathedral had once held before being buried deep underground by some forgotten power.

But the object of their quest—the power they sought—was now before them: a small, golden, glowing man. And behind him, five doors.

Cade flopped onto the damp dungeon floor, peeling the armor from his wrists and hands. He ran his fingers through his thick, sweaty, grease-slicked auburn hair.

Faren watched him closely. Cade’s face was usually thoughtful, optimistic—always full of hope. But she recognized this expression too. It was rare, but in the moments when Cade let down his guard with her, he wore the same look: a strained smile barely hiding a deep, gnawing disappointment.

“I think it’s been long enough,” Cade said evenly. “Have we all made up our minds?”