Seven’s only thought was to put as much distance between her and the creature as possible. Her sword hung limp at her side, her bag banging against her back, but she kept running, her leg protesting with each step. Whatever it was, she wanted no part in fighting it.
What good would Luck do against something like that? She didn’t dare look at it—if she did, she was almost sure it would catch up with her, and besides that, it seemed easier to run from something without knowing the odds that it might catch her. Or, it was a much easier gamble to take, anyway.
She flew through the massive hallways of the cathedral, trying not to stare as she did so. Each corridor twisted and turned, the corners far too well-shaped to be natural. The place was punctuated with statues of long-dead creatures that she could only really describe as demonic and otherworldly—certainly nothing like the statues that decorated the palace. And yet, the strangest part of it all is that it didn’t feel like a cathedral at all.
It felt like a city.
There were gardens, markets, and buildings she could only describe as homes. She flew through some of the larger buildings, and there were few doors left in the place, most flung off their rusted hinges long ago. But it was clear someone had lived here at some point. The only question was, who?
She had little time to think of it as she sprinted through the streets, into buildings, and through windows, hoping to shake the thing following her. The walls seemed to close in on her as she ran, and the screaming drew closer with each step. Whatever now chased her clearly knew the path through these halls, undeterred by the confusing layout of the buildings she entered.
“Pocket,” she gasped as she ducked beneath another archway into a courtyard decorated with mounds of rock that might as well have been tombstones. “A little help here?”
Pocket poked out of her pocket, took one look at his surroundings, and shuddered, making a tiny little distressed moan. “Oh. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no. I knew it. I knewwww it. This is bad. Very bad.”
“What do you mean it’s bad?” she snapped. “Of course it’s bad! I—“ She nearly lost her footing on a rock which jutted out from the ground, but caught herself just in time, rolling out of it with more grace than she thought she had at her disposal. She just had to make it a little farther. Surely whatever it was would— “Pocket, where are we?”
“The Maw.” His red glow was far brighter than the pitiful light hanging from her bag, but it seemed dim here against the darkness of the citadel in front of her. Seven skidded to a stop near a tombstone for just long enough to gasp for breath, the creature’s thumping footsteps growing louder.
It was impossible to describe what was in front of her. What she’d thought was simply a series of little windows and tunnels set into the rock wall was an entire compound, the courtyard branching off into other buildings, the buildings jutting out from the rock as far as the eye could see. Far enough, in fact, that she couldn’t see the end of them.
Here, the comparison was unmistakable. It was as if she’d shoved Veilhome into the depths of the earth’s crust, paying no heed to the lava below.
“It really isn’t a mining tunnel,” she whispered, her breath still short. “It’s a city.”
A booming thump behind her reminded her that she was far too busy being prey to sightsee. Seven pushed herself back into a run, grateful, at least, that she’d had a chance to drain a few dice before leaving Emmet’s the night before. Without them, she’d already be dead.
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“Did you have any other info?” she demanded, leaping over a garden wall. “Or was the dramatic pause just for effect?”
“Oh, plenty of info,” Pocket said, holding onto her shirt with little stubby stumps glowing the same color as the magma she kept passing in what had once been fountains. His voice was far too cheerful. “I’m pretty sure you activated a portal to another dimension—or at least crossed over into one.”
Seven felt the heat against her cheek just in time to turn, dodging behind a nearby pillar. A blast of fire slammed into the one in front of her, and she swore, her breath coming too fast. She barely had time to register what Pocket had said before she launched into a run again, her aching leg protesting with each step. How much longer would her Luck last? Were there more of these things?
She tried to choke out a response as she ran, sprinting down a hallway that abutted another courtyard, this one piled with mounds like the ones she’d seen right outside of Luckville.
“A portal to another dimension,” she repeated, feeling absurd as she did it. “You’ve got to be joking.”
Pocket’s high squeak was far too serious. “Afraid not. The Maw was sealed by the Sidhe during the great Fragmentation, but some say they didn’t seal it as well as they should have. Sometimes, the things that guard the Maw bleed out into the mines. Can’t imagine how LMC would cover that up.”
“Poorly,” Seven spat as another fireball singed a piece of her hair. Pocket, as usual, was useless. What good would a history lesson do against that thing?
“I don’t know half of what you just said,” she went on, “but I’d appreciate it if you’d give me something useful, Pocket.”
“I am useful,” he argued. “I can store all kinds of—“
Seven shoved her hand over his mouth, muffling it. “I’ll have to fight it,” she muttered breathlessly, turning another corner. “I’ll have to fight the luck-forsaken thing. Oh, thirteen take me, this is not what I had in mind when I said I was going to make Rook pay. I’m the only one paying.”
The thing was gaining on her, even with her Luck. Whatever speed she had on top of her own tragically human speed clearly wasn’t enough. But could she fight something that she couldn’t even outrun?
Seven skittered to a stop at a balcony that overlooked a lake of lava and swore as the thing burst through the marble doorway she’d just exited, flinging the rocks forward with such force that several peppered her face, stinging as they hit her cheeks.
But it wasn’t the marble she was concerned with, or even the dead-end lake of lava behind her. Or the sudden lack of exits as Pocket let out a visceral squeal of fear.
It was the thing in front of her.
Twice her size, the creature’s fangs were as long as one of her femurs. Its fangs dripped venom into its fur, and its breath inexplicably fogged the air in the near vicinity as it let out a huff of frustration. It stood on two legs as easily as a human, which would explain its speed, she supposed—had she cared to catalogue the thing that was going to end her life.
It roared, the sound lifting her hair, and, though she’d been determined to fight it not seconds before, she couldn’t help but have second thoughts. Whatever strength her Luck gave her wouldn’t be enough for this; its muscled arms were easily three feet wide, and its eyes stared soullessly at her as it stomped forward, clearly not interested in a treaty.
“Please tell me you have a plan,” Pocket whispered, his glow now a sickly green.
“Not one you’re going to like,” she replied, drawing her sword. The metal rang out in the cloying heat of the air, and the creature roared again, its tusks still dripping green venom. The venom sizzled as it hit the ground, and Seven swore, her mind and fingers both going numb with fear.
She barely had time to process it as the creature lunged for her.
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