The archive room shook, ever so slightly; faint vibrations from the munitions testing in the distance. The waves ran over the walls, causing slight trickles of dust to fall from the shelves, but no more.

In the centre of the room, the little octopus looked up from the parchment spread out in front of him, wrinkling his little nose tube briefly. He eyed the piles of similar parchments beside him, in very slight disarray from the outside bombardments, and gently reached out with a stubby tentacle to realign them. He’d already had one incident with the archives tumbling down on top of him, and was keen not to repeat it.

In all fairness, the archive itself wasn’t best placed for actually studying them, especially during active hours. But it was at least quiet, and away from prying eyes and snide comments.

Flapmon shuffled forwards, turning a page over between his two front tentacles, before looking down at the page again. He sat there in silence, lost in diagrams and footnotes, the minor differences between combustion charges and the aerodynamic qualities of fuselages. The words formed a blanket around him, dulling out the distant explosions from outside, the even more distant cheers, and the soft footsteps on the tunnel down to where he was sat.

It was only when he heard the sound of someone sniffing that he looked up, just briefly, and noticed that someone else had entered the archive. KoCoremon pulled his stumpy paw away from his nose, and shook his head.

“Sorry. I didn’t know you were here.”

Flapmon didn’t answer, just looking down at the page again, finishing the note he was on. He was about to reach out and roll it over again, when he chanced a look up, seeing the little fuzzy ball of fluff still sat in front of him.

“Do you need something?”

KoCoremon shook his head, puffing his cheeks out as he sniffed again. “No, I...no. I’m fine. It’s fine.”

“You look upset.”

“No I’m not.”

“You’re crying.”

“Am not!”

KoCoremon’s face scrunched up, as he pounded both his front mittens on the ground at once. “Just because I keep falling off the obstacle course at that balance rope bridge thing. Everyone’s making fun of me. They’re saying I won’t make it as a soldier if I can’t do it.”

Flapmon whistled a little, his ear flaps wiggling about. “I mean...they’re probably not wrong.”

“Thanks for nothing.”

KoCoremon turned his back, his tail curling tightly and his fluffy body sticking out like a pincushion. Flapmon looked at his back for a couple of seconds, before returning to his parchment, moving onto the next page of catalyst devices. He hummed to himself, taking in the crisp lines and a few of the blocks of text, but couldn’t focus properly.

“What rope bridge?”

KoCoremon turned round. “Huh?”

“There isn’t a rope bridge on the In-Training obstacle course; it’s all at ground level.”

“I know that. I’m talking about the one on the basic Rookie course.”

“Well of course you can’t do that. I can’t do that either.”

KoCoremon grumbled. “They don’t have to laugh so much though.”

“You’re doing something impossible. They’re going to laugh. Or tease. Or eventually ignore you. And then when you get really good at it, they might start liking you.”

KoCoremon rolled backwards, his eyes falling down on the parchment. “Is that why you’re reading this stuff? You understand it?”

Flapmon flattened himself. “Not really. But I get my head around the shapes, and some of the words.”

“Aren’t you in ballistics? Don’t they teach you this?”

“Not yet. Everyone else goes out to watch them being fired and the like.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because once it’s been fired, it’s all broken.” Flapmon gestured forwards. “How am I supposed to learn what goes in it when it’s all broken? So I’m looking at it here.”

KoCoremon grinned. “You’re weird.”

A vein popped out on Flapmon’s forehead, but he just angled himself away. “That’s rude.”

“Sorry. I like it. I don’t get it but I like it.”

“You don’t need to get it,” wheezed Flapmon, and he turned away. “If you’re feeling better then the rope bridge is still out there. You’ll get it if you practise.”

KoCoremon pouted, looking between Flapmon and the door. Then he sat down, his fluff gathering around him.

“Can I stay here for a bit? With you?”

“Why?”

“Just somewhere different, that’s all. I can think about what I’m doing wrong.” He tilted his head. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Flapmon pressed his front flaps together, looking a tad annoyed for a moment. But when he turned towards the little manticore, and saw the earnestness in his eyes and the stubbornness in his lip, his mood shifted. He shuffled sideways, making some extra room in the little alcove.

“I don’t mind.”

KoCoremon grinned, and lay fully down in a little fluffy ball, purring slightly. Flapmon gave a small whistle, before returning back to his drawings, eyes full of learning.

And they sat there; silent, but together, as the distant booms continued outside.

His eyelids rippled, flashes and sounds playing in his mind in a subconscious attempt to drown out the white noise from all around him. Cold metal morphed on his tentacles, becoming rough ground and hewn stone. The air flushed hot and cold, illuminated with red glows, and separated by purple spikes. And the shadows. Back and forth like always; somebody always running to get to their station, or to collect the munitions, or to

“Hello, earth to Mollumon.”

The young octopus’s eyes flicked open, his pupils mere pinpricks of light against the gloom. Sparking briefly, then focusing before him, without his face even twitching once. Serpemon gave a wry smile, and waggled his fingers.

“I thought I lost you too there for a moment.”

“Not funny, Serpemon.”

“No but I’m stressed. Cut me some slack.”

Mollumon couldn’t find the energy within him to argue, instead loosening his body as he slumped forwards over his barrel. He glanced over at the snake, who was peering around the struts to the left of him. “Any sign of anyone coming after us?”

Serpemon’s ear flaps twitched. “Aside from echoes of much shouting from up top, none at all.”

“This isn’t exactly the safest place to hold out.”

“We’re fugitives in a foreign city. ‘Safe’ is a relative construct.” Serpemon leant back against the cold support, folding his arms. “We should thank small mercies that Mr Frosty of the Night Guard doesn’t really have the suppleness to visit underneath every single island.”

Mollumon pressed his beak, looking out amongst the web of struts himself. It was hard to make out anything in the forest of shards, and even the trolleys bobbing through the air with their swinging lights weren’t doing much to add to the visibility. It was no wonder the rebels had managed to stay out of reach for so long.

“What if they decide to send that beast after us?”

Serpemon placed a finger to his snout. “In that eventuality, I’d say our best option is ‘dying in screaming agony as our very cores are incinerated’.”

“I thought as much.”

Mollumon gave a small gurgle as he pulled himself forwards, swinging against the struts before him. “You shouldn’t have let me sleep. We need to be alert.”

“That’s exactly why you needed it. Neither of us are any good if we can’t move.”

The octopus couldn’t argue there either, rolling his tentacles up in front of him as he felt the strain and fatigue within them. His whole body still felt alien to him, the strange heavy atmosphere digging deep into his skin. The oppressive atmosphere of the waking nightmare wasn’t helping matters either.

The struts clanked to the side of him as Serpemon sat back against them, his faintly glowing orb bobbing back and forth in front of him. “I hope you got yourself some brain rest as well.”

Mollumon flattened his mouth, not deigning to answer. Serpemon clicked in frustration, and poked the octopus gently on the cheek.

“S’pose that was always a tall order. What was going on through that big mind of yours?”

“Memories, mainly. Unhelpful ones.”

He felt himself sliding down the struts, toyed with the idea of stopping himself, then gave up, landing in a floppy tentacular heap on the cold floor. Serpemon loosened himself up beside him, holding his arms around his tail and listening patiently.

“Coremon’s always been an idiot. Genuine, open and kind, but an idiot.”

“Doesn’t that go for all of us?”

“We’re supposed to be the best at this. I...I’m supposed to be better than this.” Mollumon pressed his face forwards into his tentacles, his ear flaps draping over them. “All these supposed smarts and observations and I can’t work out the first thing about what’s going on here. I’m supposed to have answers about these disappearances or about what happened to Muspelmon and I just...don’t. And now I’ve lost my friend and colleague because of that.” He turned his head, not showing Serpemon his eyes. “What’s the point of all these plaudits and titles if we can’t do anything with them?”

He pressed himself further into his barrel, his stream of consciousness turning into indecipherable echoes. Serpemon looked at him for a moment, interlocking and pulling apart his fingers, before reaching out and hooking his hand over the rim of Mollumon’s barrel.

“They can give us praise till they’re blue in the face. We’re only young, Wiggles. We’re going to make mistakes and get into fights and get things wrong. It doesn’t lessen us. Our struggles don’t equate to our worth.”

Mollumon tensed for a moment, his tentacles drawing in. But, feeling Serpemon’s hand still holding his barrel, he eventually loosened, turning his head back and looking into the snake’s face. Serpemon smiled sincerely, shaking the barrel gently.

“You’re doing just fine, you know that?”

Mollumon gave a short whistle. “When did you get so poetic?”

Serpemon didn’t answer, instead pressing his lower lip out. Mollumon waited for a couple of seconds, before bowing his head.

“Thanks. Really. I needed that.”

“Much obliged,” replied Serpemon, straightening up as he clicked his shoulders one at a time. “So; we have clues to find, and we have a friend to get out of trouble.”

“Coremon comes first.”

“Agreed.”

Mollumon folded his tentacles. “I don’t trust any of the Sovereigns, but I get the feeling they won’t sentence him to death or anything prematurely. We have until his trial.”

Serpemon flicked a finger out. “Provided, of course, that he’s not made to disappear in the same way Sifamon was.”

“Unlikely right now. If that happened, we’d immediately go to General Surtremon, and that would be an immediate cause for war. The Spokes wouldn’t risk that.”

Serpemon nodded in agreement. “Sure thing. It makes far more sense for them to get us all in a room, proclaim us all guilty, and then have us meet our grisly ends at the claws of some nightmare beast.”

Mollumon raised an eyebrow. “You were being so supportive a moment ago…”

“Eh, that’s just me being boring.” Serpemon clicked his neck, before looking out underneath the struts of the city. “Let’s face it; we’re fugitives now, so trying to do everything by the book is going to leave us at a disadvantage. But, thankfully, we’re not the only rebels around here.”

Mollumon pulled a face. “Last time I tried to approach them they threw rocks at me.”

“Things have changed a little. They must have picked up on Coremon’s imprisonment, so maybe they’ll understand that we’re not in the pocket of Big Sovereign.”

“That ‘maybe’ is doing a lot of heavy lifting, Serpemon.”

“We don’t have any other options.” Serpemon leaned sideways, wrapping his arm around the strut. “It’s either the rebels, or we try and catch the Sovereign who we trust the most not to sell us out. And for the record, I’m not convinced by either option either.”

Mollumon bunched up a tentacle against his beak, his eyes flickering back and forth for a moment. Then he glanced up, and nodded.

“Alright. We’ll go to the rebels.”

The capital building was an eerily quiet place at the best of times. No matter the extent of the noise or hubbub outside, the ancient shapes and structures helped to muffle the sounds of raised voices and frustrated movements to those inside.

This of course worked both ways, even for someone like Hasdielmon. Despite his gentle levitation propelled by only the faintest rippling of the edge of his wings, he still made a noise while traversing the corridors. A possibly gentle, but certainly persistent hum, echoing down on his own body and mind, and those of anyone else in the building.

So as he descended the steps, and approached the window of one of the guest quarters, he wasn’t too surprised to see Coremon stood attentively, already aware of his presence. The angel seated himself, and leant forwards onto the balcony, his bejewelled eyes staring down and taking in the whole contents.

“I hope you’ve been made comfortable.”

Coremon’s arms flared slightly. But he kept his paws visible before him, as he was taught to do in serious conversations such as this.

“It’s roomy.”

“This is not a militarised place. We don’t have much in the way of actual cells, so you at least get space.” The angel looked aside for a moment. “I expect that’s very different in your home region.”

Another sputter of flame from Coremon’s shoulders. The manticore’s nostrils flared, but he kept his voice low.

“I wish to get in contact with General Surtremon.”

Hasdielmon placed his hand on his chin, looking down at the defiant little beast.

“I can’t allow that. This is an internal incident, and thus, your fate falls to me.” He placed his bandaged hand back down. “Besides, I’ve been told by Caesiumon that there is still no direct rail link to the Fire Kingdom. It would take three days there plus the same back.”

“I’m willing to wait, your majesty.”

“I’m not. Not while my citizens are at risk.”

Coremon lowered his head, grinding his teeth as he felt the heavy stare of the angel upon him.

“You have an empathetic heart, don’t you? You can’t believe that me, nor my friends are responsible for these attacks.”

Hasdielmon sighed, looking up at the opposite window, and the purple gloom outside.

“Sin begets sin. If you’re truly here on an ambassadorial mission, then this whole situation has just been poor luck. But if you had other agendas from the beginning, that then erodes my faith in you.”

He pushed himself up. “You’re right that I have an empathetic streak. It’s to my detriment; Hamadryamon and Muscovymon remind me of that often. Whether I believe it’s right for you to be in here or not, I have to take measures for my citizens.”

“And you won’t even stand up for them, when your fellow Sovereigns are causing them pain? Your ‘empathetic streak’ is damned selective when it wants to be!”

It was a moment of anger, and Coremon knew as the words were coming out that he shouldn’t have said them. He bowed his head, forcing his flames to retract in an instant.

“I’m sorry.”

Hasdielmon straightened himself up, the dagger swinging around his neck.

“Your trial for espionage, and possible murder of Spokes citizens, will happen tomorrow. I suggest you take this time to prepare your case.”

He turned, his wings rippling, as his eyes shone from the side.

“If you are truly innocent, then you surely don’t have anything to worry about.”

Coremon narrowed his eyes, watching and listening silently as the angel moved away. When the hum had receded, he looked about him, the grand and spacious room still seeming utterly oppressive.

He sat down, and placed a palm against his mouth, shutting his eyes tightly. He allowed himself a chance to take in the room he was in, and his own position. Utterly doomed, possibly. That was the main thing he’d had going around in his head.

But as he opened his eyes, his pupils came into focus. And he found himself looking further around the room that he had so sarcastically praised. He may have been a prisoner, but he was also in a unique position to his comrades. And if – as he suspected – there was treachery within the Sovereignty, then surely the capital itself would be a vital place to be.

He stood up, and began to walk around his holding place, sending occasional looks over at the guest quarters. And as he walked, so his mind began to race.

Somewhere, somehow, there was a way out of here.

Or, more usefully...there was a way further in.

Unaware of their friend’s actions, Serpemon and Mollumon carefully picked their way between the spokes of the islands above, heading towards the larger cluster beneath the main capital. They occasionally stopped, ducking out of sight when a trolley passed overhead, or when one of the searchlights above waved in an arc too close to comfort to them.

They didn’t say much to one another for most of the trip, until they reached the outer webs of the capital itself, swinging under the chrome canopy with ease. Serpemon was in the lead, and he paused, holding himself up by his curling tail.

“So...noble cause and all, but what’s your plan for getting an audience with the rebels?”

Mollumon paused, latching himself around one of the struts as he looked up into the centre. “I was hoping you’d be able to tell me. That’s your thing, isn’t it?”

“To limited success.

“My fault then.” Mollumon wrapped a tentacle around his chin. “I don’t think they’re in the same place they were before anyway. Doedimon was not happy with us.”

“They have to be close by if they still want to go surface-wards at some point.”

Serpemon hummed to himself, and made to swing forwards, when a glint caught Mollumon’s eye and he lunged towards his companion.

“Shffhsh!”

“YEEP!”

Serpemon started as he was grasped in Mollumon’s tentacles, held back against his barrel. Mollumon tapped him on the snout, before pointing upwards as a trolley came swinging round, a single figure stood within.

“They’re a bit harder to spot here. Just keep an eye out.”

Serpemon stopped struggling, and tilted his head, trying to get a better look. He frowned, making low noises of confusion.

“That doesn’t look like one of the royal guard.”

“Maybe one of the rebels themselves?”

“You really think they’d take public transport right now?”

The two leaned forwards slightly, trying to track the trolley’s movements as it went in its ponderous arc. The figure inside was moving into the gloom, their silhouette obscured by the long cloak they wore, unable to be made out.

Then, just as the two Elites were leant forwards as far as they dared, the figure moved quickly; swinging out the window of the trolley and leaping through the air towards the metal struts.

Mollumon pulled Serpemon back again, wrapping a tentacle around his mouth before he could utter anything. Less than a second, and they heard a clang; the figure’s hefty form landing on the metal and resonating through to them. They stayed stock still, waiting for the sound of approaching footsteps.

The footsteps came. And died away, as the figure moved away.

Mollumon loosened himself slightly, letting out a long breath. “I’m not cut out for this kind of job stress.”

He looked down, his eyes meeting with Serpemon’s as they fluttered up at him.

“We need to snuggle like this more often.”

“Do you want me to throw you?”

Mollumon unravelled himself, dusting his tentacles off as Serpemon peered through the splintered webs. “They’ve stopped.”

“You can still see them?”

“Good eyes. And better senses,” said Serpemon smugly, holding his jaw against the metal. He hummed for a second, before pointing. “That-a-way. Not towards the rebel hideout.”

“We don’t know that.” Mollumon straightened up. “They collapsed the old place, remember? Told me they were going to move.”

“So this guy knows something we don’t?”

“Possibly. Possibly they’re an ally, or even more possibly they’re something to do with those first disappearances.”

Serpemon leant sideways. “Still holding out on that lead, huh?”

“Look, do you want to follow them or not?”

“God yeah.”

The pair made tracks, skilfully edging their way across the struts in the direction of the mysterious figure. It wasn’t long before they came into sight again, walking slowly but confidently down into the depths beneath the capital.

Serpemon and Mollumon maintained their distance, keeping close to the struts. Occasionally it seemed like they’d lost their quarry, but they came back into view shortly. And when the figure paused, looking around, they had just enough time to duck behind the struts for cover.

As they descended, the bright haze of the Spokes gave way to something deeper, with the glints and reflections from the chrome struts providing less and less light, and the gentle hum of the capital building itself – ancient and alive – transposing the view with a thick static. The two Elites found themselves moving closer and closer just to keep the figure in view. And as Mollumon got a better view of their gait; the swing of their arms and the build of their shoulders, he grew ever quieter, his eyes narrowing to pinpoints.

The struts opened out briefly, forming a lattice over the floor that curved up into a web-like structure. Here the figure paused once again, holding their legs apart in a stable pose.

Serpemon waited, desperately trying not to say anything that might give them away. But as he glanced aside at Mollumon he saw his friend’s intent stare, his eyes bright in the gloom. The snake shifted over, ready to pull him back if needed, when a deep voice sounded in their direction.

“I know you’re both there.”

Serpemon winced, but remained quiet, waiting for someone else to come out of the shadows. But Mollumon moved instead, straightening up and resting his front tentacles on the strut before him.

“When did you realise?”

“I wasn’t a soldier for nothing, Mollumon.”

“Ah yes. Commander Muscovymon. Former chief of strategy and ballistics. Of course you knew we were here.”

The cloaked sovereign stood up to his full height, and pulled his hood back to show his face as he turned broadside on to them. His flat cap was raised, giving the two Elites a better look at the cybernetics over his left eye, clutching around the back of his head and down his neck. Relics of former wars, and yet they did nothing to dull the piercing shine in his stare.

“There’s a great number of people looking for the both of you up top.”

Serpemon raised his arms, almost nonchalantly. “What can we say? We’re just that popular.”

Mollumon shuffled forwards, bunching his tentacles. “Where’s Coremon?”

“Safe. Awaiting trial tomorrow.” Muscovymon lowered his head. “I dare say you should both be with him. Not skulking around out of sight when there are murderous beasts on the prowl.”

“If you really thought that then I’d have expected a more concerted effort to find us,” said Mollumon, tilting his head. “I mean...you are the captain of the guard. And one of the Spokes Sovereignty. And yet you’re down here yourself, trying to stay out of sight.”

“I have assets to protect as well.”

“Well, we’re both in the same boat then.”

Muscovymon gave a harsh stare, his eyes flicking between the two Elites. Then he gave a humourless smile, shaking his head.

“Why are we even pretending to be civil anymore?”

He straightened up, and in a deliberate movement raised his cannon arm, pointing it squarely at the two of them as the deep red glow shone from inside.

“Don’t try my patience, Fire Soldiers. Tell me what your intentions are, or else.”

The two Elites remained firm, not moving despite the armament pointed at them. Serpemon raised his arm, tapping his cheek.

“It would be nice to know your intentions as well, your higness. I get the feeling you wouldn’t be too keen for Hasdielmon or the others to know that you’re down here.”

He narrowed his eyes, tongue gently flicking the air.

“What are you hiding?”

Crack

The blast of red flame shot past the snake’s head, at such close proximity that he nearly bit his tongue. He laughed nervously, the devilish intrigue slightly absent from his voice.

“See, it’s...actions like that that make me doubt your integrity a little.”

“My integrity’s just fine. I remembered to miss on purpose.” Muscovymon squared himself up again, shifting his cannon arm to the right slightly. “You’re going to tell me everything you know. We can either do that here, or I can drag you both up to the courthouse and you can do so there. Do you understand me?”

Click

Serpemon closed his eyes, saying ‘ah boy’ under his breath as he heard the sound of Mollumon reconfiguring himself beside him. The octopus pointed his barrel’s mouth directly at Muscovymon’s head, his eyes glowing brightly within.

“Does this answer your question?”

The two cannoneers followed each other, neither saying a word as the gentle power lapped away within their armaments. Serpemon cleared his throat, and raised a lone hand.

“Is it fair to say the diplomatic approach is now out the window?”

Mollumon growled, his voice echoing inside his chamber. “He shot first.”

“Yes, but-”

“People are dying, my friend is in jail, and frankly it’s been a real shitty couple of days. I don’t have the words to try anything else diplomatic right now.”

Serpemon gave a strained smile, glancing back at the old Fire Commander. “Yes, but...you realise we can’t actually beat him in a fight, right?”

“I know, I know; I’m working that out.”

“Cannonball Quack!”

“SPLIT!”

The two Elites darted sideways as the blast shot past them, crashing into the spokes behind. A cloud of debris shot up, giving the two a couple of moments of cover to make their next moves – not that Muscovymon was about to give them the chance. He strode forwards, zoning in on Serpemon as he scrabbled over the floor.

“Molten Mortar!”

The duck’s heard the sound and raised his arm, blocking the spheres of magma in a large sweep. The molten flame spattered out, peppering his face and causing him to swear, but he merely shook it off, turning his head back towards the spines, where the two Elites had now disappeared.

He stepped back, his mechanical eye darting around as he scanned the lattice of metal around him. He reached up to his collar, and pulled his cloak away fully, leaving his torso free to move.

“I know all your tactics, Fire soldiers. I learned the same ones myself.”

A skittering across the metal behind him. He turned on his heel, raising his cannon and firing again. The shot clanged across the metal, leaving it resonating and humming intensely all around him. And the resonating masked the sound of footsteps from directly above.

“Lava Drop!”

Mollumon spun like a windmill as he swung from up above, sending a twister of pellets in every direction. They popped and cracked on impact; the explosions racketing around the cage even more, and breaking Muscovymon’s focus. He looked up, seeing Mollumon clutched against the metal.

“Enough tricks! You can’t win against me!”

Serpemon’s head popped up next to the octopus’s, a nervous grin over his face.

“Not with that attitude. Swing me, Wiggles!”

“Oh for god’s sake…”

The two launched themselves downwards, propelled by Mollumon’s tense tentacles as their bodies shot past Muscovymon’s face. Mollumon threw more pellets as he did so, the projectiles cracking in the duck’s vision even as he raised his arm to swipe. But he wasn’t quite quick enough; just in time to see Serpemon’s glowing palm shooting towards his good eye.

“Acid Flare!”

"AAAACK!”

Muscovymon stepped back, his vision temporarily overrun with green fire. He swung his arm around in a clothesline, and made contact with someone he couldn’t see. There was a thud, a yell of pain, followed by the sound of skittering on the metal barbs. Muscovymon crouched, his mechanical eye going haywire from the sudden heat, taking a while to focus.

“I’ll admit you’ve got talent. But you haven’t been listening to your superiors. No matter how many advantages you have, don’t linger around in a fight you can’t win.”

Mollumon leant down above him, bracing himself against the metal as he prepared to fire off more shots if needed.

“See, we’ve been given permission to do our own thing from time to time. And I’m still holding out for that talk, even if you’re being stubborn. Your highness.”

Muscovymon hissed, arcing his cannon around above him, but his vision was still blurred, unable to make out any shapes in the metallic lattice around him. Mollumon leant back, as Serpemon tapped him on the shoulder with a whisper.

“So do we just keep whittling away at him until he goes over?”

“We’re whittling away until he sees sense.” Mollumon glanced around him. “If he wanted to, he could bring this whole structure down on us.”

“Aah. You’ve noticed it too.” Serpemon pushed his lips out. “Maybe he just has an appreciation for structural integrity?”

“As big as the capital is? This may cause a few shakes, but it won’t hurt the whole thing.” Mollumon clicked his beak. “He still wants us alive. And we can still use that.”

Serpemon tilted his head back and forth. “Wants us alive...or perhaps, doesn’t want to hurt anyone else around here…”

Mollumon raised his head, thoughts clicking in his head, but before he could turn back his companion had yanked him away, short blasts of flame coming up through the centre. “He’s moving again.”

Muscovymon stood below, rushing up towards the edge of the clearing as he kept an eye out for any movements. He thrust his cannon down, blinking as he stared around.

“If you’re watching, get away from the bars.”

Mollumon heard a rustling sound, amplified by the rods around him. For a brief, crucial second he looked back, trying to spot movement. And he missed Muscovymon bringing his flesh hand back, the palm steaming as he reached for the nearest strut.

“MOLLUMON, WATCH!”

“Geo-Carbonizer!”

Muscovymon’s hand closed around the metal, and with a mighty incendiary crackling, the entire rod burst into red hot heat. Those it was connected to did the same, and the energy snaked up the lattice within seconds, forming a dazzling – and deadly- display of colour.

The brief distraction had stolen Mollumon’s attention for just a second too long, as he looked back to see the cage he was hiding in slowly closing in with lethal heat energy, the temperature already causing his skin to shrivel. He yelped, and thrust himself straight down, with Serpemon snaking across the buckling metal after him.

“There you are.”

Mollumon tried to twist in mid-air, but Muscovymon’s hand flew upwards and grabbed him by the lower tentacles. The duck didn’t stop; swinging him around like a wobbly bolus as his mechanical eye zoned in on his falling comrade, the octopus feeling his tentacles warping in the duck’s grip.

With an elastic cracking sound, the two collided, Serpemon finding himself looped over Mollumon’s barrel as the centrifugal forces kept them pinned together. Muscovymon rolled his arm just the once more, before bringing them over his head, slamming them both against the ground.

They lay there, staring up at the slowly dimming metalwork as it danced in their spinning vision. Then the dancing lights were replaced by a single, pinprick one, as Muscovymon’s cannon arm was yet again pointed in their direction.

“I believe I asked you to talk.”

Serpemon tried to speak, but all that came out was the last three vestiges of breath in his lungs. He looked to Mollumon for moral support, but the octopus hadn’t moved, his tentacles still jiggling from the ordeal. Muscovymon sighed, and crouched down over them, before another clanging sound caught his eye.

“Jazamon?”

Mollumon and Serpemon managed to roll as they saw the metal bird lumbering towards them in an ungainly fashion, followed by Syakomon and one of the Sunerizamon. Muscovymon rested his cannon against the ground, blinking up at the chamber. “I hope I didn’t catch any of you.”

“We’re alright,” said Jazamon, clicking his wings together. “Um...are they alright?”

Serpemon raised a gloved thumb, croaking “Never better.”

Muscovymon huffed and gave him a harsh nudge with the curve of his cannon. “They’re not gonna bother any of you, don’t worry.”

Jazamon lowered his head further. “They...um...weren’t. I mean, they...I...the monkey one saved me a little while ago.”

"Jazamon, what have I told you about getting to close to danger?”

The great, diamond footsteps of Doedimon clanked against the metal as he made his way forwards, a few other rebels watching from within the struts. He joined next to Muscovymon, knocking him on the shoulder.

“Try not to bust the place, or our cover.”

“I was deliberately missing.”

He pulled his shoulder away, before gesturing at the two grounded Elites, movement just about starting to come back to their limbs. “I caught these two following me. I thought they were coming for you, so I intercepted them.”

“Well, your highness, now you’ve beaten us vile cretins, what’s the plan for these poor folk down here? Are you here to arrest them?”

Muscovymon stretched his beak out, looking down at Serpemon, who had taken a candid pose on his stomach, sticking his tongue out slightly.

“Or is there something else you’re up to down here?”

Muscovymon rolled his shoulders, and walked backwards. “I can do without the sarcasm. I’m not here to hurt any of my citizens. ”

“Well that’s handy, because neither are we.”

The duck scratched his cheek. “You know...I did wonder...just now…”

“And yet you still smooshed us into the ground?”

“You shot me in the eye. Warrior’s instinct and all that.”

Doedimon peered sideways. “That eye doesn’t look great. Get Doc to have a look at it.”

“I’m fine.”

“You may be fine but you’re also our only lifeline now. We need you to be able to do basic things like see where you’re going.”

Muscovymon gave a tsk, but didn’t reply, leading Doedimon to focus his attention back on the Elites in front of him.

“I heard about your friend. Coremon, was it? Our youngsters were very pleased to see Her Ladyship get taken down a peg.”

“That wasn’t the intention!” Mollumon puffed his cheeks out. Then he shook his head. “Okay, maybe it was a little fun to watch but still...he’s been framed. We’re worried. I know you promised to cave our heads in if we showed up again but please...we’re desperate, and we just want to save our friend.”

Doedimon rolled his shoulders, but before he could answer Muscovymon stepped in. “I’m telling the truth when I said your friend is fine. He’s in the capital and awaiting trial tomorrow, where he will be accused of espionage and a breach of the peace.”

Serpemon raised a pointing finger. “You mean...like you’re doing right now?”

Muscovymon cracked his neck sideways, facing Serpemon with a wide, bloodshot eye that could have pierced titanium. Serpemon shut his lips tightly, but Mollumon could see that he was struggling not to break out into laughter.

It was Doedimon who prevented any further wanton violence, as he stood up to his full (hunched) height, beckoning everyone with a finger. “You’re all down here now. I think we can assume nobody’s going to turn traitor in the next five minutes. The least we can do is get you all patched up a little.”

He turned, even as Mollumon reached out after him. “Wait...just like that? After one of yours died on our watch?”

Doedimon paused, his body tensing a little. He spoke softly, still looking in the other direction.

“There’s a lot of distress and anger around these days. We’ve all lost friends. I trust that it wasn’t your fault.”

He wandered off after the lonely message, with the young ones padding along by his sides. Mollumon lowered his arm, not quite knowing what to make of the situation.

“I guess the diplomatic option really is back on the table then.”

“Hardly,” came Muscovymon’s gruff voice as he strode past them. “Try anything funny and I’ll melt your skeletons.”

Mollumon wanted to point out that he didn’t have one, but felt it wise not to probe the matter.

“Haaaaahahahahaha!”

Cutemon’s cackling reverberated around the encampment, drilling into the ears of everybody present, but especially Muscovymon’s as he stared into the middle distance, his eye still blinking unnaturally. Mollumon and Serpemon couldn’t help but feel he was staring at them and planning their untimely demises, but with the lack of focus it was quite difficult to tell.

Cutemon wiped away a tear, and hopped up on Rebellimon’s shoulder, digging through his bag of items. “I can’t believe the big bad high commander of the Royal Guard got his arse folded in two by a couple of Rookies! ”

Muscovymon clenched his fist against his knee. “I did win, you know.”

“Sure, sure, whatever makes you feel better,” rambled Cutemon, before hopping to the end of Rebellimon’s hand and placing a stubby mitt on Muscovymon’s bill. “But on the other hand; did you win? Did you really? ”

“Doc, stop tormenting the fire soldiers,”came Doedimon’s voice from the entrance as the great armadillo wandered inside. “They have delicate composures.”

The good doctor shrugged, and promptly flung a green glowing rag into Muscovymon’s wounded eye. The duck hissed throatily, but said no more, holding the fabric in place as the healing energy did its work. The little rabbit hopped back onto Rebellimon, and knocked him on the shoulder. “You got the other salves sorted yet, lugnuts?”

A reserved grunt from the cyborg indicated yes, as he rolled carefully over to where Mollumon and Serpemon were sat on their own tiny bench, also nursing a number of bruises, scrapes and burns from the little excursion. They held their heads down, ignoring the attention they were receiving from the other passers-by – anything from confused glances to hard, accusatory stares, and even the occasional rock thrown at their heads.

One such projectile narrowly missed Serpemon, bounced off Rebellimon’s waist and clunked Cutemon on the side of the head, causing him to whip round holding an oversized pair of scissors.

"BABOONGAMON!”

“Sorry Doc.”

“I’m working here. Throw anything else on my watch and imma roll it in antiseptic and lance it up yer fuzzy cheeks. Now piss off.”

Even Baboongamon it seemed wasn’t ready to tackle the tiny bunny’s wrath, as he wandered off sideways, doing his best attempt at an innocuous whistle. Cutemon rolled his eyes, slapping Serpemon upside the head with a fresh salve. “Y’all do make this job never-ending, you know.”

Serpemon winced from the stinging sensation, stretching his neck out. “Well...you know, we do our best to annoy people and eventually we all get tired and come to an agreement.”

“I wouldn’t take their attitudes personally.”

Serpemon raised his eyebrows as he looked at the huddled figure of Muscovymon sitting opposite him, his mechanical eye looking black and static. He pulled the salve away, his face looking still a little pale, but certainly healthier than it was.

“They don’t really like me either. You just grow a hard skin and get on with it.”

Serpemon rested his chin on his hands. “Is that a tyrannical sovereign ‘not-like’ or an ex-Fire-Soldier ‘not-like’?”

“Whichever it is, I’m willing to say it’s justified.”

Mollumon had been waiting patiently, his left tentacle held up by Rebellimon as Cutemon massaged up and down its length, straightening the kinks and tears in the skin. But he spoke up finally, his eyes piercing into the Sovereign’s.

“So can you tell us what the deal is?”

“You first.”

“I’m sorry?”

Muscovymon straightened up, narrowing his eye. “Your arrival’s brought nothing but further turmoil, and I don’t buy the whole ambassadorial makeup crap. I have no faith that you won’t bring all this business to the other Sovereigns.”

Serpemon stuck his tongue out. “Why would we do that? You’re still holding our friend hostage, remember? We’re not on buddy terms with any of you.”

“Well?”

Serpemon rolled his head back, looking towards Mollumon for approval. The medical tent was silent for a minute, even Doedimon placing the bag down and listening intently.

Mollumon leant to the other side, presenting another tentacle to the doctor. “Of course we’re for our own advantage. We lost an elder general and the perpetrator came from the Spokes.”

Muscovymon smiled wryly. “So you’re looking for justice then.”

“Not justice. If we wanted that Surtremon would have sent an army.” Mollumon looked up. “We just want the truth. And from what we’ve seen here, there’s a lot of truth that needs bringing to the open.”

The Sovereign tsked before him, and folded his arms. “Fire Kingdom politics. Find a justification to act and their word is then god.”

He looked back, seeing the expectant looks in his direction. “I’m sorry for your loss with Muspelmon. But I hold no loyalty towards him. I couldn’t justify the actions the Fire Kingdom took and the direction they were heading, which is why I left.”

Mollumon sat back. “If Coremon were here, he’d be adamant that we’re only trying to keep the peace.”

“Coremon isn’t here.” Muscovymon raised his eyebrow. “Do you not believe that yourselves?”

Mollumon and Serpemon shared a look, waiting for the other to speak first. Mollumon broke the silence, pulling his tentacles in front of him.

“I have my loyalties. Friends and family there. I’m just doing what I believe is right by them.”

Muscovymon said nothing, his eyes moving over to Serpemon. The snake shrugged.

“Don’t ask me. I don’t have any loyalties, they tell me. I just go where the fun is- ooof.”

He chuckled a little as Mollumon elbowed him in the side, before clasping his hands together.

“It’s as Mollumon said before. I just want to work towards the truth of this world. Right now the Fire Kingdom is my best option.”

The Sovereign pulled his arms apart, tapping his fingers around the end of his cannon.

“You’re all fine soldiers, and fine people. I can tell that much. But you can’t change a broken system by following it to the letter, no matter how noble your intentions.”

“Aha.”

Serpemon raised a finger, his tongue flickering before him.

“And that’s why you’re hanging out down here, plotting a citizen’s coup, rather than actually doing your job as a leader of this place.”

Muscovymon spotted a glance over at Doedimon, but the armadillo did nothing to assist him, merely turning his back. The duck looked outside the tent, at the mess of hovels and half-open structures, and the many displaced citizens going about their lives between them.

“I thought I had a chance. I thought I had the power to do something here. But the worst thing is, you’re right. Coremon’s right. This place...the power and legacy that’s amassed here...it’s completely poisonous. Worse than the Fire Kingdom could ever be. A gold-plated legacy that grows stronger by crushing its own foundations, ruining thousands of lives by its mere existence. I can’t change it from above; I’ll only ever be drawn into it. Become a part of it.”

“So he’s been coming down to where we are,”said Doedimon finally, crouching down between the two parties with his hands clasped. “Offering information, locations, weak spots. Helping us to erode that rotten legacy bit by bit.”

Mollumon leant forwards, balling his tentacles up before him and resting them against his beak. His eyes flicked from left to right for a moment, his mind working heavily. Then he looked up once more.

“Do you really think you can do it?”

Muscovymon closed his eyes. “Whether I think I can is irrelevant. I have a duty to try. That’s all.”

He stood up, slicking his neck back and forth as his cannon arm swung beside him. His eyes turned down to the two elites, looking far more focused now.

“We’ve shared enough between us. I think we’d be wise if we didn’t get in each others’ way.”

Serpemon uncoiled himself, holding his hands in front of him. “You’re not going to help us?”

“Don’t misunderstand me. I have no intention of aiding you on your search for justice, nor on bailing Coremon out. If he’s as skilled as you are then he’ll be able to prove that himself.”

“If you do believe he’s innocent then why wouldn’t you help us?”

“Because we don’t have the same endgame.”

Muscovymon turned, holding out a scarred arm towards the two. “If the Sovereignty falls, but the Fire Kingdom step in, then the people of the Spokes are no better off. This is my quest to save them, and I won’t be beholden to you.”

Mollumon raised an eyebrow. “And if you’re not enough? What then? Where will the Spokes be then?”

Muscovymon lowered his arm, his eyes narrowing down at the Elite. That is until the sound of Doedimon’s knuckles clacking together caught everyone’s attention.

“Far be it for me to intrude, Muscovymon, but you’re not the only one with a say here.”

He turned back, his glowing eyes focusing down on the Elites.

“Your intentions – this justice you’re speaking of – will it get rid of this pale beast that’s been killing us?”

Serpemon placed a thumb against his mouth, but Mollumon took the question. “We are still allied nations. If there’s a monster out there killing civilians then we have a duty to stop it whether it has anything to do with our investigation or not.”

"Could you make use of our help?”

“I...uh…”

Mollumon puffed his cheeks out, looking around the encampment briefly. “Not for me to refuse, but you’ve heard it straight from us now. At the end of the day we’re only here for ourselves. Are you really sure you want to trust us?”

Muscovymon side-eyed the leader of the rebels. “Doedimon, I don’t-”

“You don’t have to. I was dismissive of their offer before and we still lost someone. I’m not about to turn away help that’s being offered like that, not with how vulnerable we are now.”

He stood up, placing his hands together and curling over in a respectful nod. “I didn’t choose to be a leader. I know the limits of my own power, so I’m willing to put my trust in both of you, and that’s my decision, Muscovymon. If it comes back to bite me, then I will put it right.”

“So the caving-in-heads threat still stands?”

Mollumon elbowed his colleague once again, but Doedimon merely snorted. “It’s really up to you. You all seem to have your own plans on what’s the best course of action. I’m willing to play along, is all.”

He looked outside, holding a hand over his eyes as he stared up into the web of metallic struts.

“And besides; if your goals truly are for justice for this place, then that’s something I’ve been waiting on for a very long time.”

Muscovymon sighed, looking down at the ground as he held his hand against the side of the hut. When he glanced back at the assembly inside, his gaze was slightly softer.

“You and me both.”

He gave a slight nod towards the two Elites, before exiting, his footsteps making light descending taps as he walked away. Serpemon folded his arms. “Charming. Insults us, beats us up, and then does a runner.”

Mollumon shrugged beside him. “I don’t think we’re in any trouble though.”

He leaned back, before wincing from the pain, being nudged forwards by Rebellimon as Cutemon waved a finger in his direction.

“You stay still for a bit. No leaving until I say so.”

It took some persuasion and a couple more hours, but eventually the good doctor allowed the pair to exit, giving them some jeering remarks along the way. Doedimon took it upon himself to lead them out the encampment, just in case there were any further rough remarks (read: solid objects) thrown in their direction. But the fires seemed to have died down a little in the meantime, though likely because of the rebels going their separate ways just to survive.

The two Elites reached the entrance, where they bumped into Tobiumon. She jumped at their presence, her stance immediately raised, but it calmed down as Doedimon walked up beside them. Serpemon lowered his head.

“I’m sorry. For your friend, I mean.”

Tobiumon looked away, opening her mouth. Then closing it. She nodded slightly, and ran off back inside, leaving only the Elites staring after her. Serpemon rubbed behind the back of his head, gritting his teeth. “Yaaah...it never gets easier.”

“There’s been too much loss around here. But she knows it wasn’t your fault, I’m sure.”

“I’m glad you’re sure. I’m not.”

"So what are you going to do now?”

Doedimon looked down towards them, an almost expectant tone in his voice. Mollumon rubbed the tip of a tentacle against his beak, before looking up the pathway back to the capital.

“I don’t know what we can do for you all, but we’ll do it anyway. At the very least, we’ll try not to make things worse.”

“Easier said than done, I’d imagine.” Doedimon rested his maces on the ground, his eyes concealed by his hood. “Take care out there. The Sovereignty will do everything they can to hold you, and that beast is still out there as well.”

“Same goes for you.” Mollumon turned, and lowered his body respectfully. “I hope we’ll meet again under better circumstances.”

“Be safe. And if there’s anything myself or any of us can do to help, please ask.”

“You...mean it? Seriously?”

Doedimon lowered his head, and held the side of his face. “I’m done. I just want this over. I’ll do anything at this rate.”

He turned, walking back into the encampment as the two Elites made their way. They travelled under the Spokes for a good hour, making sure to put some distance between themselves and the rebels, before they slowed down again. The light was rising again above them, reflecting off the supports. A new day on the horizon.

“Isn’t Coremon supposed to be on trial today?”

“How time moves quickly when you really don’t want it to…” Serpemon leant forwards. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”

“I don’t think ‘okay’ really comes into it. At least one of the Sovereigns really has it out for him.”

“Not just him, I’d hazard.”

Mollumon tilted his head, as Serpemon clasped his fingers in front of him.

“Everything that’s happened has been to our detriment. From Sifamon being taken to our invitation to visit to these monster attacks to Coremon’s capture. It’s the same as with the rebels. We’re not important to this as individuals; we’re just ammunition. Somebody who knows how important we are to the Fire Kingdom. They’re trying to stoke a war.”

“After we’re the ones who lost an elder general? Why?”

“Vendettas can run deep. I’ve spent my young career being good with people, and I can tell you for sure that people are angry, reactionary, and have a miraculous talent for fucking things up.”

Serpemon raised his arms. “Of course, I’ve got nothing to say. No evidence, no witnesses, no nuthin’ worth a damn in a trial. And whichever one of them’s put this all together; they’re very well aware of that.”

Mollumon crossed his tentacles. “If we walk through that capital door we’re walking right into a trap.”

“But the information we need to break this all open is right inside that trap. And Coremon’s already got a headstart on us. He’s wormed his way inside.”

Mollumon turned his head, his expression grave, but Serpemon reached out and tapped Mollumon on the shoulder.

“So our role is to meet him there. Trust in him to find the truth, and have his back when he needs us.”

Mollumon folded his arms, running his head through everything from the last few terrible months. Sifamon’s attack on Muspelmon. Her body in the village. The burned village itself. The burning attack from the mystery beast. The attacks on the rebels. The attack on Hamadryamon. Rebellion, retaliation, and consequence.

And something caught his mind; a detail that had almost been purged, but suddenly slotted in as he ran everything back to the day that started everything.

“...we never did find that journal of Muspelmon’s, did we…”

He started, and looked over at Serpemon, who had a wry smile playing over his face.

“Coremon...if he’s in there, do you think…”

“If he has the ability. And I believe he does.” Serpemon grinned. “He’s in the best position of all of us right now; right next to something with all the truth.”

Mollumon raised an eyebrow, running his gaze over Serpemon’s wicked smile.

“You know, sometimes I think you do this deliberately.”

He sighed, rubbing his tentacles together. “Well then...we’d better go and give him a hand then.”

“One thing first.”

Serpemon pushed himself forwards, scanning the undercarriage of the city, before pointing at a far wall.

“There’s one place I’d like to drop by first.”

“Oh?”

Serpemon bent his head back, fluttering his eyelashes at his colleague.

“I probably should have told you before. I may have made a couple of...extra preparations in coming here.” He grinned. “We may not need to go into this completely empty-handed, nor completely without backup after all.”

Mollumon blinked. Before allowing himself a wry smile.

“You slippery snake-bastard, you...”

Not a few miles away, and a few hours earlier, the antics of the two Elites still seemed far away to their lone brother within the false oasis of the capital building. The midnight shade hung heavy against the locked windows and engraved metalwork; an ornate prison for the doomed one inside.

Or at least, it would have been, if he had still been in there.

A scope of the guest chamber had confirmed Coremon’s initial suspicions that there was no easy way out. Sealed windows, observed corridors; it may not have been militarised, but if the Sovereigns wanted to keep somebody inside the capital, they certainly could.

But that hadn’t been what Coremon had been looking for. On remembering Serpemon’s words about his own excursion into the depths of the capital, it had gotten him thinking about one Sovereign in particular; that being, Gryllimon. As an archivist and a chronicler, she would have methods to get to every corner of the capital building, and he had seen her appear and disappear into varying rooms during his brief encounter.

It hadn’t taken him long to find it; a gap in the far wall, only small, and made to look like part of the pattern. No guard or barricade, just a set of steps descending into the belly of the building.

He had been there for hours, locked inside his own mind. Wondering whether it would be best to do things by the book. He knew he was innocent. The Sovereigns had to witness that. They just had to. Of course there was no need to guard the passageway; the mere act of him using it would just prove the espionage case against him. He’d be signing his own guilty verdict.

But in the end, the need for truth outweighed his self preservation. Again.

Coremon padded slowly against the cold rods below, afraid of making even the slightest sound. His footsteps sounded deafening, and his breathing and heartbeat cacophonous in his ears. But still he descended further, the escape route to his confining room seeming further away every second.

He cursed inwardly, and blocked the inevitable consequences out of his mind, focusing instead of placing one foot in front of the other. His shoulders and tail were glowing brightly, making the walls around him flicker with strange lights. He was most certainly still alone, which he could only take as a good thing.

His hand came up to his chest, bunching around the cloak and Muspelmon’s brooch, which felt warm in his palm. He paused, resting a hand against the wall as he looked down at the engraved metal, letting off its own crimson light.

“You’d know what to do, wouldn’t you. I hope I’m making the right choice.”

He hadn’t meant to speak out loud. He stopped for a moment, expecting to hear pursuits immediately after him. But there was nobody else. The words hung in his ears, oddly comforting when combined with the burning sigyl in his hand.

He let it rest against his chest again, and made to carry on into the darkness, when he paused for a moment, feeling the metalwork on the wall next to him. He drew back, pulling his arms together and letting his shoulders brighten up a little.

The metal was different here, in what he could only assume was the depths of the capital. Rather than the twisted and latticed rods that seemed to make up the surface, the catacombs seemed far more organic. Moulded and alien, like the metal had been poured and frozen, capturing with it pools of light and glittering shards, which seemed to shine with many colours rather than just the monochrome silver.

But the wall wasn’t entirely smooth. Where he had been resting his hand, the metal had been gouged out. Furrows and scratches of varying sizes dug into the metal, embossed at the edges, almost as if the material itself had healed and left scars.

His eyes followed the arcs, seeing where they came together and split apart again. It was the image of a figure, for sure. Four-pawed, segmented tail, horned with a blazing mane and beard. It was running; towards or away from what, Coremon couldn’t tell. But he saw the glimmer in the beast’s eye, and the scattered jewels around him, and he suddenly felt incredibly humbled, though he couldn’t exactly say why.

He tiptoed forwards further, seeing more symbols and sketches further ahead. He could feel the heat and oppression around him, begging him to turn around, to go back to his confines. Whatever this was, it was beyond him. Bigger than him. He wasn’t supposed to be here, and he knew it.

He kept walking.

The catacombs twisted around him as he descended deeper, the lights in the walls becoming ever more oppressive, and the faint purple haze becoming warmer, almost stiflingly so. Not that Coremon noticed, so fixated was he on the changing murals around him. More symbols, creatures and scenes; some vague, some with moments of crystal clarity. Fields aflame. Great sea beasts. Elemental symbols. And other figures that seemed otherworldly to him, small but constant, journeying through the frightening scene.

He turned a corner, and stopped, looking up at a very clear image indeed. The figures were here as well; six of them, or perhaps twelve, circling someone in the centre. He stepped back, trying to look from a different angle. There was no mistaking it. General Surtremon. His general; eyes ablaze, sword raised, defending himself against these unknown invaders.

It was a harrowing image; enough to cause Coremon’s shoulders to dim, the lights against the metal turning ashen, and illuminating great gouges further on. Coremon clutched his chest, the brooch beating in his palm.

“What...is this place?”

He shivered, his shoulder flames going out entirely. He felt sicker than ever, the smell of burnt metal lingering in his nostrils. Still, he looked up, taking in the full terrifying majesty of the flickering picture before him.

Coremon started. His chest tightening even further. He looked down at himself, sure that he was emitting no flames whatsoever.

But the picture before him was still flickering.

Haha

Coremon felt his entire body turn to ice. He turned his head, looking down the tunnel further into the catacomb, past more murals and engravings, into the gloom beyond, and at the source of the flickering flame.

It was stood there. Pawing at the corner, swaying back and forth, mouth hung open. Its voice a mixture of grinding stone and rasping pipes. Turned away, but Coremon could make out its silhouette anyway; hulking and disproportioned, with ashen white flames bursting out in spots from its head and from out of its oversized jaws.

Coremon stepped back, his foot completely silent against the metal.

Ha

The beast stopped. Gnawed at the air, its eyes flashing. Coremon held his breath, staying stock still. Looking for his way back. Wondering how quickly he could turn the corner.

He’d only taken his eyes off the creature for a second. When he looked back, it was looking directly at him. Its jaw fell wide, and without warning, it charged.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Coremon’s feet pounded against the metal, precious milliseconds lost as he struggled to gain purchase. He pushed himself back, too far, too fast, ending up against the wall above as white flames flashed up before him, and he looked up, wide open and defenseless, as the pale beast loomed over him, jaws wide and ash dripping from its maw. He closed his eyes, his last thoughts a bundle of fear, and regret, and complete nothingness.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA-

The howl stopped. Coremon sat there, eyes closed, even as the white flames still danced around them.

He opened one eye. And closed it again, the frightening visage before him embedding itself in his mind.

Moments passed. Gingerly, Coremon opened his eye again, and then his other one. The beast was still there. Stood above him, statuesque, and looking practically dead, were it not for the white flames across its jaws and over its head.

They stayed completely still. The beast with its stance wide, and Coremon bundled up, his heart feeling like it was about to explode out of his chest. A chest that the beast’s blank eyes seemed to be fixated on.

Ha

Its mouth opened wider, and retracted. Ash fell from between its teeth, splattering near Coremon, who pulled his tail away, not wanting to touch the deadly material.

Ha

Hda

The muscles twisted behind the beast’s oversized jaw, and over its throat, its tongue too big for even its malformed head. It tried again, bringing up single syllables, and rasping sounds. Again and again, none of its other muscles moving, save for its jaw as it tried to speak.

Hhhdadd

Hhha

Dhha

Its mouth clicked. It turned its head, as its eyes dimmed enough for the pupils to focus on Coremon’s terrified expression.

Dhaddy?

TO BE CONTINUED...