The chamber felt smaller than she remembered. Maybe it was all the talk about it these last weeks. All that hinged upon it. Underground through a short stretch of tunnel, it was locked behind thick doors and illuminated with meek candlelight, murky and flickering. The floor was made up of bone tiles, each about a foot in length and width. Upon closer observation, she saw that each tile was composed of many small pieces of bone somehow glued together and compressed slightly to make an even, edgeless surface. The walls and ceiling were covered with the same tile. It was, perhaps, the most morbid, disgusting room she'd ever seen, considering the bodies necessary to construct it.

"This room is old," Wracen muttered as they entered, chewing at his lip, brow deeply furrowed in worried thought. "It has been here as long as the city has. Maybe longer."

"And yet it needs to be destroyed," Sovina said.

"Yes… I suppose it does."

Ignatia stood near the doorway with some of the Sorcerer priests as Protis lingered further back, weaponless. Emalia wished they had hauled up the large axe the Soulborne used, somehow. It would have sped this up a good deal.

If only we had let them know sooner to destroy this room, she thought, sensing its odd, cold power. It didn't just hide Sorcery, Wracen had explained, but amplified its abilities. The room enabled a sort of long-range casting, which was how they could activate that Artifact hidden in the voivode's hall. It was almost as if the room had power of its own, somehow.

She and Daecinus had worked this all out, but to hear it from the man supposedly in charge of the room, it only reaffirmed her guess at Maecia's plan. This place was perfect for her Spell. Gather as much Soul fuel as possible from the denezins of the city, compress it, then send it to the Observatory. It seemed massive, even for someone as capable as she. Maybe that's what all her extra Sorcerers were for? Good thing we killed a few here.

They could have tried to evacuate the city, but by the time she and the others had reached the outskirts, it was already too late. Such an operation would take days. Whoever was in charge—the Black Han, she supposed—must have been confident in victory. That, or he feared what might happen when a massive population was forcibly moved outside the protection of tall walls… Gods, she was glad not to be in a position of power like that.

"Do you have any tools to speed this up?" she asked Wracen as Protis shuffled inside.

"Not quite, I am afraid."

Emalia bit back a groan of annoyance. How were they so unprepared for an enemy to use this powerful weapon against them?

Protis halted next to her and gave a questioning look.

"Okay," she said. "Let's do what we can—"

THUMP!

Everyone turned toward the hall, a few priests gasping. The sound had come back from the temple. If Emalia had to wager a guess, the sound was the large double doors to the main chamber being slammed into. They were barred and would hold, but not long.

"Now, Protis!" she shouted, snatching up her own knife and falling to the floor, digging the point into the bone tiles' grouted joints.

The Soulborne slammed into the wall, cracking a number of ivory tiles, and began pounding with their fists. Each punch shook the whole chamber, with dust filtering down from above. Worrying. They were underground, after all. Sovina used her sword as some of the others tried with their fingers.

We won't make it, she thought as a second crash echoed down the halls, this time with the sound of something splintering with a terrible crack. They needed pickaxes, hammers, pry bars, and laborers to use them. Even Protis struggled to destroy tiles completely, oddly, even if they cracked easily enough. They were stronger than they seemed. Could Sorcery explain it? Or was this bone composite just unnaturally resistant to damage?

"Run!" someone down the hall screamed, joined by pounding feet far heavier than any human's and the messy chaos of a mad scramble.

"Wracen, can we bar the doors here?" Emalia asked.

"I am afraid not. For safety purposes, we wished not to install a lock of any kind here."

Of course they didn't. Not that they would hold long. Emalia redoubled her efforts, popping free a tile and tossing it aside for Protis to smash. She glanced up to study the room and found too little damage. We need to stall them, she thought with a sickening twist of her stomach.

"Protis," she called out. "Can you hold them?"

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"Yes." The Soulborne turned from the damaged wall and strode out without a moment's hesitation, ducking under the doorframe, massive form augmented with iron armor.

Ignatia followed close behind. "I will assist. Priests, you may be called upon."

"As the woman says," Wracen echoed. "The gods watch over you, Ignatia and Protis."

"Just shout if you need support," Sovina said.

"I will." And with that, she was gone.

Emalia wished to follow, watch, and study the enemy's movements. Was it a fake-out? Or was this their main attack? Was Maecia there? There was at least one other tunnel from the false archive that led here via a second door at the opposite end of the room. She exchanged a glance with Sovina and returned to work as more sounds of violence tore through the hall behind them, brutal and visceral.

…

The room of Sorcery buzzed behind Protis, alight with suppressed, Dead life. Like a battlefield recently filled with corpses. It was reminiscent of the portal room in Drazivaska. It made Protis feel alive.

As did violence.

"If she is among them, we must call for the others," Ignatia said from behind in Pethyan, a tongue Protis recognized through inherited memory from Daecinus.

Daecinus trusted this Sorcerer, so Protis nodded to show understanding and compliance. If Maecia was present, they would not be able to defeat her, even with the Sorcerer priests.

Down the hall were a number of Protis's grey-skinned cousins of Death, lurching forward at a running crawl, shadows in the darkness. Further back were three Sorcerers, based on their aura of thick, swirling death. None had Maecia's presence, however.

"I do not see her," Protis reported.

"Me neither." She turned around, frowning at the bone room. "Even if this is a mere distraction, we must hold here with the expectation of notice should they encounter opposition."

Protis grunted. The enemy was almost before them. The prey.

Humanity was not a mask to adorn when convenient, for Protis was changing, but when battle came, something shifted, and it… they could become something else. Something crueler, baser, more instinctual. Violence simplified the complexities of existence into perfect, savage simplicity. Not permanent, not fully, just a reprieve.

Protis, for a time, was no longer a Dead creature in a human's world but an animal in a forest of quarry. Not only a world they belonged to, but one they dominated.

Only six Reavers to face. Limited maneuverability, narrow corridors forcing a head-on engagement, no weapon to rely on. It would be like in the fields west of the Grand Observatory, solved with teeth and claws and crushing fists.

Perfect.

They crashed into each other with brutal abandon. Three files of ranks of two against Protis, ripping and tearing through grey flesh. Weak, unintelligent creatures easily baited with feints and false openings. Not as fragile as humans, but breakable all the same. Armor absorbed most blows that could not be avoided, and tough skin did the rest. Protis tore through the neck of one and tossed the body into the crowd.

Sorcery was being cast overhead, but Protis paid it little mind. Ignatia would not hold against three, though she did not need to. The fight was soon to be over.

…

Emalia lept to her feet.

Her exact fear had come true: the hallway to the main temple room was not the only line of the enemy's attack. Others had heard sounds coming from the supposedly blocked tunnel, and when one priest went to investigate, he about screamed in fright.

"What is it?" she asked.

He fell back, collapsing onto the bone tile floor, then looked back at Wracen. "More Dead… There is something terrible coming!"

"We should call back Protis!" Emalia shouted.

"No." Sovina stood, pulling the priest away. "Let them finish in the hall. I can hold this way."

"What if there are Sorcerers? What if Maecia is there?"

"Then I shall hold."

Emalia wanted to shake her and shout that she couldn't play the sacrificial hero every time, but the damn tiles wouldn't break themselves. And besides, there was no changing Sovina's mind in such a circumstance. "Take the priests with you for Sorcerous support, at least."

Sovina grunted and waved to the hesitating priests. "Only engage if necessary. Let's not force Maecia to fight."

They went to leave, Emalia staring after her partner, biting her lip. Sovina wore no armor or helmet, stolen away as they were, and so her dark hair was wrapped up in a bun with wisps of it free and fluttering with her movement. The strong profile of her face caught in the candlelight as she reached the ajar door leading to the hall. As a few others went to catch up with her, Emalia wished she could leap up and kiss her goodbye and hold her for one last moment, but then the second passed, and she was gone, disappeared into the dark hall to fight on.

Emalia clenched her jaw and began attacking the floor with renewed vigor until she realized not all priests had left. "What are you doing? Go support her!"

The terrified priest from before cowered on the floor, shaking and tremoring. "I… I can't."

Wracen was about to intervene when Emalia stood and marched toward him, grabbing him by a fistful of the front of his robe. "Sovina needs your help out there. Your friends need your help. Those you call brothers and sisters. The city is depending on us, so fight!" She shoved him toward the doorway.

He fell to his hands and knees, rose, hesitated, and then dashed outside, leaving only Wracen and her still in the ivory chamber.

"Can they defeat her?" the head priest asked, using a piece of tile to pry out others.

Emalia focused on the work before her, destroying what she could as quickly as she could. "No," she finally admitted. "They won't be able to. Not without Daecinus and the others from New Petha."

"Then let us pray they can hold until then."

"Yes," she muttered, fists clenched, feeling impotent, useless at a time she simply couldn't be. But the work had to continue inside. She had to render the chamber dysfunctional. But even in her frustration and anger, she couldn't help but shake the feeling that they were still missing something crucial. Maecia's plan couldn't hinge on something as easily foilable as an intact chamber, could it? Was there something else about the room that mattered? Something they missed? She tried to think as she worked, but it was difficult with the sounds of violence, of screams and shouts and roars of Dead… So she worked hard, prying and breaking and destroying.

If this was all for naught… If they were but fools and Maecia got here first, Emalia would try her best to kill the woman herself.

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