The axe slipped from Stronric's fingers.

It struck the stone with a dull clang, sliding a half-turn before coming to rest beside a cracked bone. He took one more step toward the wellspring, then staggered. His breath caught. His knees buckled. Stronric fell forward, caught himself on one hand, barely. The well loomed before him, still steeped in foulness. Its once-pure waters frothed with black rot, the surface rippling with veins of sludge and shadow. A stench like blood and bile rose from its depths, thick enough to make the throat close. Red mist clung to the stones like a living thing.

He reached out. His hand, smeared in demon blood and his own, touched the edge of the stone basin. His body shivered, legs gone numb. Pain bloomed deep in his ribs, old bruises made new. He leaned his weight forward, trying to stand again, but the forge inside him had dimmed too far. His strength, spent.

Stronric collapsed against the well and slid down its side. The last thing he saw was the curling red sky beyond the cracked ceiling, and then darkness narrowed in from the edges.

A shout echoed.

"STRONRIC!"

Bauru. Boots thundered on stone and shadows flickered in the haze. Shapes moved, blurred at first, then clearer. Rugiel reached Stronric first, her armor scorched and streaked with dried blood. She dropped to her knees, one hand going to his shoulder, the other to his cheek.

"My thane?" Her voice was taut, the usual courtly lilt lined with fear. "Stronric, answer me."

He groaned.

"Still breathin'," he muttered, voice cracked. "Just… had a chat with a demon."

"A bloody long chat," Bauru growled, crouching beside them. "Ye look like shite."

Rugiel turned on him. "Help me sit him up, not insult him."

Serene knelt opposite, staff still aglow with the faintest white light. "He's not mortally wounded. Bruised, broken perhaps, but nothing the wellspring shouldn't heal. If it were still whole."

"Which it ain't," Bauru muttered, glancing at the dark waters.

Armand stood nearby, sword still drawn, eyes sharp. Lirian paced the edge of the ruined chamber, checking the dark tunnels for signs of more demons. Kara hung back, one hand on the wall, her face unreadable.

Dane arrived last, his gauntlet glowing faintly from the fight. "We cleared the last of 'em. Whatever that beast summoned, it's gone or dead now."

"Then we have a moment," Rugiel said. "Sit him up."

Together, she and Bauru lifted Stronric, easing him against the side of the well. The stone was slick with blood and corruption. Rugiel winced.

"No dignity for a dwarf to rest in filth," she muttered. "This is no place for recovery."

She drew her hand back and called the flame. It came without hesitation.

Blue fire bloomed in her palm, soft at first, then brighter, casting a clear light across her face and armor. But it did not remain contained. The flame spread across the ground, flowing in curling patterns across the stone. Wherever it touched, the corruption burned away. Black blood dried into harmless ash. The foul slickness receded like water from a hot pan.

The ground around Stronric cleared, revealing smooth stone beneath. The air shifted, the stench fading as a faint scent of lavender and fresh steel took its place. Rugiel blinked, then stared at her hands.

"Morgal's breath," she whispered. "It listens... more clearly now."

Stronric groaned, opening one eye. "Forge bless ye, lass. Ye've gotten stronger."

"Hush, you," she said, though her tone held no reproach. Her expression had changed from grim concern to quiet wonder.

Bauru stepped back and gave a long whistle, one hand resting on the hilt of his machete. "That ain't just cleanin'. That's more. Ye never burned through filth like that before."

Rugiel said nothing for a long moment. Then she turned to the well.

The water remained dark, the surface thick and sluggish, like oil stirred by something foul beneath. Strands of black sludge floated just under the surface. But hidden under that layer, faint and flickering, there was a pale glow. A hint of gold.

She walked toward it and placed both hands on the well's rim.

"I can go further," she said. "I can cleanse this."

"You're drained," Serene said, stepping forward. "You've already pushed yourself."

"I must try," Rugiel replied softly. "It is not enough to drive back the filth. The flame must mend what was broken."

Armand lowered his sword and leaned on it standing silently, watching. Lirian leaned back against a cracked pillar, arms folded, breathing heavy but quiet. Kara remained still, her gaze unreadable in the dark.

Dane came forward, gauntlet still humming faintly. He glanced at the well, then Rugiel, and gave a short nod. "We'll cover you."

Rugiel closed her eyes. She lowered her head and murmured the words of her forge prayer.

"Morgal, flame of old, hear thy servant. I am thy hammer, thy anvil, thy breath on the embers. Let thy fire rise. Let thy will be done."

The fire responded. It flared from her palm, coiling up her arms like molten chains. Her palms glowed, and the blue flame spilled from her fingers into the corrupted waters.

At first, nothing changed.

Then the well hissed.

The surface churned violently. Steam rose, laced with the smell of rot. Tendrils of black smoke twisted upward, screeching as they met the flame. The well fought her. Shadows leapt from the depths, writhing against the purification, as if the very corruption had a will of its own. The stone under her feet began to tremble.

Bauru swore under his breath and reached for Rugiel. Serene raised her staff to steady the flames if they turned wild.

"Rugiel," Bauru shouted. "Pull back, ye've done enough!"

She did not hear him.

Her lips moved in silent prayer, her arms trembling. The fire along her body grew brighter, more intense. The purifying heat crawled deeper into the well, driving back the darkness inch by inch. Each moment took more out of her. Her knees began to shake.

Then the fire exploded in a flash of light.

The well went still.

Rugiel collapsed.

Bauru caught her just before she struck the stone, easing her down with a grunt. Her head lolled to the side, her face slick with sweat. The flames had gone out. Only a faint ember pulsed against her breastplate, just above her heart.

"She's alive," Serene said quickly, placing a hand to Rugiel's forehead. "Exhausted, but whole."

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Bauru nodded and looked up at the well.

The surface was calm. Clearer. No longer choked with foulness, though the color was not yet pure. It was like watching the last smoke of a fire fade into the air.

Something stirred at the edge of the chamber. A rustle. A wet sound. They turned as one.

From the shadow of a collapsed pillar came a small shape. Twisted. Shuddering. A rabbit, or what had once been one. Its fur was patchy and soaked through with rot. Flies buzzed around its body. Maggots writhed along its spine. One eye dangled uselessly from its ruined socket.

It made no sound.

It only moved, slowly, toward the well.

Lirian's hand drifted to a dagger, but he did not draw. "What in the name of all stars…"

The rabbit reached the stone rim. It paused for a moment. Then it leapt.

It dove straight into the water. The surface rippled once, then went still.

Silence held.

A moment passed. Then two.

The water stirred again.

The rabbit surfaced.

Its fur was white. Clean. Whole. The damage was gone. Its body was restored. It climbed from the water, droplets falling from its coat like crystal. It hopped to the rim, paused, then calmly sat on the lip of the well and began to groom itself.

Bauru let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Well, I'll be damned."

Serene stepped forward.

She approached the well slowly, staff held in one hand, the other extended palm-up toward the water. Her boots brushed over scorched stone, the edge of the purified circle faintly glowing underfoot. When she reached the well, the rabbit looked up at her. For a long moment, it did not move. Then it hopped aside to give her space.

Serene leaned over the water.

What met her eyes was not just cleanliness, it was clarity. The surface shimmered like polished silver, reflecting not just her face but the ceiling above, the cracks in the stone, the faint glimmers of divine light. Gone was the sludge. The shadows. Even the temperature felt different now, like standing near a forest spring at dawn.

She dipped her fingers in. Warmth met her skin, not heat, not magic fire, but something gentle and pure. A comforting warmth. She whispered a prayer under her breath and felt the water pulse in answer.

"This is no longer corrupted," she said softly, "but it is more than just clean."

She turned to the others.

"The water has changed. It has been remade." Serene called with a small laugh of wonder.

Serene stepped back and drew a small silver vial from her pouch, then a larger glass bottle, carefully etched with arcane sigils. She filled them both, then held the vial up to the light. The liquid shimmered faintly, not blue like Rugiel's flame, nor white like her own spells. It was something in between, like gold refracted through morning mist.

She began to work.

Circles of light spiraled around her staff. Her fingers moved in precise motions, brushing against the bottle's sides, weaving faint glyphs into the surface. The glow from the bottle changed in response, flickering once before settling.

A spell of sanctification.

Another of identification.

A third, more complex, to reveal divine resonance.

Serene's brow furrowed.

"There are echoes here," she said. "Many. This is not just Morgal's fire, though it was the one who cleansed it. There are traces of Verdancy still woven in, and something older. A thread of an unknown touch, perhaps. Or even deeper. The water remembers."

"Remembers what?" Lirian asked.

Serene did not look up. "Life."

She finished the spell and closed her hand around the bottle, letting the magic settle. Then she rose and crossed back to where Stronric and Rugiel lay. Both were breathing, though shallowly. Rugiel's eyes fluttered but did not open. Stronric muttered something in dwarven under his breath, then coughed. Serene knelt beside them, uncorked the bottle, and pressed it to Stronric's lips first.

"Drink."

He stirred.

"Don't need... nursemaidin'," he muttered.

"You do if you want to stand again," Serene replied, voice calm but firm.

She tilted the bottle, and the water passed his lips. At once, a ripple went through him and his back arched slightly. The bruises along his ribs lost their purple edge. His breathing steadied. Color returned to his cheeks. He groaned low in his throat, but this time there was strength behind it.

"Forge's beard," he said, wiping his mouth. "That's better than ale."

Serene gave a small smile, then turned to Rugiel. She cradled the smith's head gently and gave her the same. The change was slower here, more subtle. The exhaustion faded first. The trembling in Rugiel's hands ceased. Her brow smoothed. Then, slowly, her eyes opened. Her gaze met Serene's.

"Did it work?" Rugiel whispered.

Serene nodded, a smile upon her lips as she looked at the young dwarf. "You did it. The well is cleansed."

Rugiel blinked, then smiled faintly. "I knew it would be worth the cost."

Stronric leaned his head back against the stone and let out a long breath. "So... the rabbit wasn't just there for dramatics."

"It was the proof," Serene said. "The corruption was undone, not merely suppressed."

Bauru stood nearby, arms crossed, looking down into the well. His voice was quiet, almost hesitant. "So what does that mean? The mountain's fixed?"

"Not yet," Serene said, rising. "But this... this is the start. The wellspring was the heart of the corruption. The center of it all. Now that it is cleansed, the rest can begin to heal. Slowly. Naturally. Maybe even with help. You would have to find a druid to be certain tho."

Dane stepped up beside her, gauntlet humming faintly again. "You're sayin' the dungeon ain't finished yet."

Serene nodded. "No, but we have turned the tide."

Armand sheathed his sword, the last traces of battle tension fading from his posture. "Zhen perhaps... ze mountain may yet draw breath once more, free of its chains."

Kara, who had remained silent, finally stepped forward, glancing at the well with an unreadable look. Her fingers twitched slightly, a flicker of chill in the air around her, but she said nothing. She simply stared at the water and then turned her eyes to Rugiel.

"You risked much," Kara said. "But you succeeded. That is rare."

Rugiel nodded slowly. "The forge guides. We follow."

Stronric grunted and leaned forward, stretching his shoulders. He looked down at the water again, then at the rabbit, who now rested calmly by Rugiel's boot.

"We may have to start carryin' a holy bunny with us," Stronric said, the humor returning to his voice. "For good luck."

The others chuckled softly, the laughter tired but real. For the first time since entering the mountain, the air no longer held the hint of blood.

Bauru stretched his back with a loud crack and looked around the chamber, his one eye scanning the far reaches of the broken space. "Reckon we set up camp here," he said. "At least till sunup or whatever passes for it in this cursed place."

"Aye," Stronric agreed, rolling his shoulders with a wince. "We'll need time to mend. And I want to see if the well stays clean come the next few hours."

Armand nodded. "We shall take turns on watch. Allow me ze honor of standing first, if it please you."

"You sure?" Lirian asked, already pulling a cloth from his belt to start cleaning his knives. "Because I feel like you've taken enough horns to the ribs for one day."

"I am in armor," Armand replied, "and still whole. You are quick, oui, but I doubt even you could chase what slips through ze cracks of zis cursed place."

Lirian shrugged and flopped onto a flat slab of stone. "Fine by me."

Serene turned back to the well, still watching the faint gold threads within the surface swirl and settle. "This place is not just stable now," she said, mostly to herself. "It's recovering. Like a wound closing."

Dane glanced toward the collapsed pillar the rabbit had emerged from. "Then why do I feel like something's still watching us?"

Bauru froze. His hand slipped to the handle of Predator without thinking. "Because somethin' might be," he muttered. "A dungeon this deep, this old... it doesn't give up its secrets in a single fight."

Stronric leaned forward, propping himself up with one arm. "It listened when I cried out. It responded when Rugiel acted. This place has a will."

"Aye," Bauru replied. "And it's waitin'. Might be listenin' still."

Rugiel stirred again and sat up with Serene's help. Her face remained pale, but her voice had regained its usual composure. "It will be weeks before the mountain is healed. Perhaps months. But this wellspring is proof it can be done. With time, with faith, we can undo what the gnolls broke."

Stronric looked to the shattered archways at the chamber's edge. The mists beyond were lighter now, but still dense. Still hiding something. "We ain't done," he said. "We've won a battle, not the war."

Kara, who had remained quiet, stepped forward again. Her tone was smooth, gentle. "Then we should rest while we can. Recover. Regain our strength for what lies ahead. The mountain will not remain still for long."

Her suggestion was met with quiet nods.

The group moved slowly, setting down packs, laying out bedrolls, propping weapons within reach. Bauru scouted the nearby halls before returning, giving a short nod to confirm they were secure. Lirian, still grinning faintly, offered a few pointed jokes to ease the tension, but even he kept his daggers close as he lay down. Armand sat near the well, eyes watchful, sword across his knees. Dane rested beside a fractured statue with his back to the wall, gauntlet at the ready.

Stronric and Rugiel sat side by side, backs resting against the clean stone of the well. The rabbit had nestled beside Rugiel's boot, now curled into a ball, fast asleep. "I thought we might have lost ye," Rugiel said softly.

Stronric gave a faint grin. "Ye might yet. I feel like my ribs were used as drums by a giant."

They sat in silence for a moment. Then Rugiel reached over and placed her hand gently over his. "Your voice carried through the whole chamber. When you called out to Thoranthana, I felt it. Like the mountain itself shifted."

Stronric didn't answer at first. Then he said, "It did."

She looked at him.

"I felt something under the stone," he said, eyes narrowed slightly. "Something old. Sleepin', maybe. But stirrin'. I think this dungeon... this mountain... it ain't just reacting. It's wakin' up."

"That could be good," Rugiel said.

"Or not," he replied.

A hush fell over the chamber, the kind that comes only after the roar of fire and battle. The only sound was the gentle ripple of the wellspring, now clean, now quiet.

Then, from somewhere deep within the mountain, there was a sound. Soft. Barely heard. Like a breath drawn in through stone. Stronric looked at Rugiel to say something that had been on his mind for a while now, but she was fast asleep. Her breath coming in slow rhythmic pauses. Stronric chuckled when he heard a crunch of stone, Stronric's eyes flicked toward the dark tunnels. He said nothing. But he did not sleep.

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