With the nightfang dead, the brothers stayed alert, looking around nervously, hearts beating in their chests as they awaited the next danger, adrenaline roaring through them in a rush.

  Gradually their pulse lowered, and they allowed themselves to take stock. Eisen crouched down next to the corpse, prodding it with a bolt from his quiver to check that it really was dead. Stahl meanwhile was assessing the damage to his hand—probably a broken bone or two in his fingers—and gingerly peeling away his top from shoulder to reveal two gashes. Obviously he hadn’t been quick enough with his dodge and the nightfang’s claws had scraped two raw and bloody furrows into his shoulder.

  Unable to bandage the wound properly without losing mobility Stahl settled for rinsing the wound with some water and folding a patch tie on top of it while Eisen kept watch. Letting a hiss out between clenched teeth he let the water wash away the blood on his wounds, burning against the tender flesh. Another wince as he folded up the bandage to make a pad and using the remaining length to tie it on and his rudimentary first aid was done. They could find some plants once they were out to make a salve with to avoid infection but the improvised dressing would have to do for now.

  Pulling out his reinforced gloves he slipped them on, wincing as he pulled them over his broken fingers. At least they would support his injured hand, and the metal across the knuckles would be a nice surprise for the next overeager cat that jumped him.

  Stahl complained inwardly.

  Cursing his luck he moved to stand, nursing his hand and shoulder and letting Eisen pull him up using his remaining good arm. On his feet again there was nothing to do but keep going.

  And so they did, picking their way much more cautiously through the maze of corridors that unfolded in front of them as they proceeded. They passed a corner that had been the nightfang’s nest—a pile of gnawed bones and half eaten meat—but there was little else of interest. If there were rooms in these corridors then the doors were too flush with the walls to see, and there was no identifiable way of opening them. And so they continued moving, keeping the entrance approximately behind them as the headed deeper.

  A ramp similar to the one leading down from the entrance offered them a way deeper into another featureless set of corridors. Delving deeper, taking ramps and turns, the brothers walked. The sounds and fresh air linking them to the outside were left behind, only a stale faintly metallic scent hung in the still air now.

  Nearly an hour later and the first interesting thing broke the monotony.

  A doorway.

  At the top of the ramp that would take them down again was the same threshold as their very first steps into this place. But this one had a door. Or at least it had an amber-colored glowing plane filling up the frame. The light was coming off it was much brighter than the standard diffuse light the rest of the ruin had been filled with and they could easily make out the pad and modules next to the door. Lit up and working.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  With Eisen watching his back Stahl walked up to the pad. There were a series of buttons on the pad, marked with complex unfamiliar sigils unlike anything he’d seen before. Above the grid of symbols was some kind of screen, a box of light glowing through the metal but there was nothing on the display.

  Seeing no other option Stahl picked a symbol he hoped represented ‘Open’ and pressed it. A gentle chime rang out and in the corner of his eye he saw one of the unidentifiable modules above him turn slightly to direct a metal protrusion at him.

  A moment of silence followed. And then the amber plane seemed to snap shut into itself, leaving the threshold empty and dark.

  “Wow Stahl, you are off the rails!” Eisen joked, laughing at Stahl’s shocked expression as he stared at the now open doorway disbelievingly. “How did you pull that one off? Should I tell some of the old Technics that you’re after their seats?”

  “First time lucky?”

  “Well we were due some luck. Let’s not waste it and get moving then”

  “You first? I’m sure it’s safe…”

  Five minutes of prodding and testing later and they were moving down the ramp, excited for something new after the monotony so far.

  Reaching the bottom of the ramp they were disappointed. The same set of featureless corridors stretched out in front of them, Stahl could have sworn the whole place was teasing them.

  But it was when they reached the first crossroads that they noticed the difference. As they came up to junction and were peering down the corridors—deciding where to head next—the ever present glowing blinked out from two on the corridors. Leaving a single remaining lit path.

  “I guess we go this way?” Stahl asked rhetorically, already walking down the single glowing path. Eisen shrugged and followed him down the corridor, happy to finally have something happen.

  A pattern soon emerged as they were led by a singular glowing path through the floor. The brothers quickly lost track of their location as they seemed to backtrack and go in circles, only the sound of their steps to accompany them.

  Finally they reached what seemed to be their destination.

  A dead end.

  But as they approached, a seam appeared in the wall tracing the outline of a door. When the outline was complete the whole surface started lowering, a clinical white light streaming out of the widening gap.

  Starting as a thin blade of light cutting above their heads they were soon awash with the bright light, blinking away the spots in their eyes as they acclimatised.

  With a the door was fully open and they could see into the brightly lit room ahead.

  The walls were bare, a bright clinical white and like most things here they were featureless and smooth. The box felt like a hospital room, or a prison.

  But both brother’s eyes were glued to the lone occupant of the room, a glowing orb floating above a pedestal.

  The orb did not appear to be solid but instead made of a shifting tide of a dark viscous liquid. Like sphere of molten metal colours slid across its surface, ropes of material winding and flowing together as it reflected the light in the room. It was beautiful, but it also reminded the brothers of the writhing intestines of a gutted kill. There was a sense of life to the movements.

  They could have stood there for hours, watching the moments of the orb. But after they had second to take in what they were seeing, the orb spoke.

  “”