Abby felt the walls shake as she slowly inched her way down the air shaft. Suspended in midair, held in place by her outstretched hands and feet, she couldn’t move very quickly, but her heart felt as if it was beating out of her chest. Above her, Talia clung to the rocky wall like a spider, her claws digging her own handholds into the stone. For that, Abby envied her. Though, she would never have paid the price for such an ability. Regardless of how strong Talia had become, the transformation had come at the cost of her very humanity. And though Abby tried not to judge the undead girl, she couldn’t help the revulsion that erupted within her when she thought about Talia tearing into a still-beating heart. The blood gushing down her chin. The quickly suppressed expression of ecstasy as she swallowed the flesh and blood.

It wasn’t Talia’s fault. She had to keep reminding herself that. But it was still troubling, all the same, and that wasn’t even considering the girl’s habit of standing so unnaturally still that she faded into the background. No one who was around for even a few minutes would make the mistake of thinking that she was still human, even without the alabaster skin or the prominent green veins.

Abby knew it was her responsibility to be there for the girl. Her sparring with Zeke helped, mostly because it allowed her to stop thinking and embrace her new gifts without having to process all that came with them. What Talia needed was a friend, though. Someone who didn’t judge her for what she had become. And Abby wanted to fill that role, regardless of how off-putting some of Talia’s habits might be.

Another explosion rattled the walls, and Abby couldn’t help but smile a little. Zeke was good at a lot of things, but he had a real talent for distraction. With only a couple of hours and a handful of rocks, he’d managed to grab the attention of half the city. Hvitgard had vomited dozens of soldiers, all of which were steadily chasing Zeke through the mountains. Hopefully, it would be enough to clear the way for Abby and Talia.

Gradually, the pair inched down the shaft, and it soon narrowed to the point where it was barely passable. Abby ignored the claustrophobic feelings that gripped her heart as she slithered through the tight passage, and eventually, her perseverance was rewarded when the tunnel widened into a sizable opening. Looking down as she gripped a ledge for support, Abby judged that the tunnel, which was in the ceiling of a huge cavern, was suspended about a hundred feet from the smooth, stone floor.

“Do you think you can survive that fall?” Abby asked, glancing up at Talia, who didn’t even seem to be straining.

“I can,” the undead girl said. “And if not, I can find a heart.”

Abby suppressed a shudder, then pressed her shoulders against one wall of the tunnel while she braced herself with her feet. Dipping her hand into her satchel, she retrieved a rope, which she handed up to Talia. “Hold that, then,” she said. “I’ll climb down, then you jump after. That sound good?”

Talia nodded, then grabbed the end of the rope. Abby dropped the other end, and she watched as it uncoiled toward the ground below. The cavern they’d found was entirely empty, but the floor was dotted with Jotun-sized dwellings. Flat-topped and cube shaped, they looked just as sharp and imposing as the keep outside. Luckily, the dwellings seemed uninhabited.

Once it was fully extended, Abby climbed down the rope and alighted onto the ground. A moment later, Talia crashed down, her feet sending a cloud of dust billowing from the ground. But she seemed unhurt, probably due to her enhanced endurance. Either way, they couldn’t afford to remain in the open, so after only a moment’s hesitation, she led Talia to a nearby gap between two dwellings. Hopefully, it would allow for a little concealment.

After settling into the shadows, Abby took the opportunity to look around the cavern, and she had to admit that she was impressed. Not only were there dozens of dwellings, but the entire cavern looked to have been shaped by Jotun hands. There were no round edges, as the cave was a nearly perfect cube, and dotting the entire area were wrought iron street lamps that glowed with blue light. At any other time, Abby would’ve stopped to admire the simplistic beauty of the scene; she had other things on her mind, though, and she ignored the soft, blue glow to search for potential enemies.

Just when she was about to announce the all-clear, Abby saw movement at the entrance to the cavern. The paths between the houses were covered with rough cobblestones, ending in descending steps on either end. It was as if the entire place had been carved from the rock, rather than built in more conventional ways. She held her breath as a male Jotun appeared, stumbling a bit as he climbed the steps. Though he was huge and imposing, he wore no armor. Nor did he seem particularly observant; instead, unless Abby missed her guess, his stumbling gait marked him as inebriated.

She watched in silence as the enormous humanoid creature found his way to one of the domiciles. He banged on the stone door a few times, calling out, “Lemme in, Bris! Don’t make me knock this door down!”

“Go away!” came the muffled reply, the voice distinctly female, yet as deep and rumbling as Gerd’s had been. “I’m not letting you in here until you sober up!”

“C’mon, Bris…I’m sorry,” the male slurred, leaning heavily on the domicile. It seemed as if it was the only thing holding him up. “Lemme make it up to you, yeah? I swear, I’ll –”

Just then, the door was flung open, and a blue-tinged hand shot out, grabbing the male Jotun by the collar. The house’s occupant – presumably Bris – yanked the male down to her level and growled, “I’ve said my bit, Hrovan. Respect it, or I’ll never consent to see you again. Got it?”

When she released him, the male stumbled back and fell to the floor with a mighty thud. Abby couldn’t help but respect the Jotun woman. After that, Hrovan stammered an apology, but Bris wasn’t hearing it. Instead, she slammed the door, leaving Hrovan to contemplate his bruised ego. Eventually, he managed to lever himself to his feet and stumble back the way he’d come.

After he was gone, Abby turned to Talia and whispered, “How are you with stealth? I know you can hold your own in a forest, but…”

“I will not be seen,” Talia said. “Which way do we go?”

Abby was unsure. She had no notion of Hvitgard’s layout, so they were going in blind. However, she knew they couldn’t just sit still. Not only would they eventually be caught, but something told her that Tucker’s days were numbered. If he wasn’t already dead – and the Jotuns had every right to end his life, as far as she was concerned – he soon would be. Abby wouldn’t weep over his death, but she’d promised Zeke that she would try to rescue the alchemist. So, that’s what she intended to do.

The pair waited a few more minutes, just to make sure that Hrovan wouldn’t return, then stepped out of the alley. Flitting from shadow to shadow, they slowly made their way to the far exit, which was the opposite of the direction Hrovan had gone. Abby’s reasoning was that she didn’t know the difference between the two available directions, so she had chosen the direction that didn’t have a chance of running into Hrovan. However, Abby was far from certain if it was the right choice. They could have just as easily been going the exact wrong direction, but that was true of whichever way they picked.

Slowly, they descended the steps, which were quite a bit deeper than normal. Made for the frost giants’ long legs, Abby and Talia found the stairs uncomfortable to traverse. For a couple of minutes, they followed the steps until they found yet another cavern, which was functionally identical to the last. It even appeared to be the same size. The only difference was that it was far more populated, with seven Jotuns – a mixture of both male and female – milling about. It looked disturbingly casual, with pairs breaking off into their own conversations. Most seemed inebriated in some way, and not the jolly sort of drunkenness. They all seemed lethargic, depressed, or outright belligerent. Even as Abby and Talia crept into some shadows, she saw a fight break out. No one stepped in to stop it, and it didn’t end until one of the Jotuns was lying unconscious on the floor. Or at least Abby hoped it was only unconsciousness, as opposed to death.

But either way, at least it provided a distraction, which Abby and Talia used to their advantage as they slipped from one shadow to the next, passing practically under the frost giants’ noses until they found another descending stairway.

Over the next hour, the two women repeated the process a handful of times, going ever deeper into the mountain city of Hvitgard. As they went, the pattern cemented itself; rare was the sober frost giant, and even then, those few who maintained their sobriety seemed listless, barely even conscious. It was altogether disturbing, and a pall of hopelessness hung through the entire city.

In addition to taking the pulse of the city’s inhabitants, Abby began to notice a pattern in its layout. When they found themselves in a particularly desolate area of the city that was seemingly devoid of any habitation, Abby whispered to Talia, “It’s a spiral. You see that, right?”

“I noticed, yes,” Talia said. “I can feel…I feel the weight of the earth above us. Death and despair are in the air.”

“What are you talking about?” Abby asked, more than a little creeped out.

“I smell it,” Talia said. “A sour rot that I know can’t be physical. This city is dying, and its inhabitants know it. I can taste it in the air.”

“Well, that’s just creepy,” Abby mumbled.

“I know,” Talia agreed. “I don’t like it any more than you do.”

Abby sighed. “I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have said that,” she responded. “I know none of this is your fault. It’s just going to take some getting used to is all.”

“For both of us,” Talia stated.

“So, do you think it’s because of what Tucker did?” Abby asked. “Not being able to reproduce, it’s going to take its toll on a population, right? People would give up hope and just wait to die.”

“I don’t know,” Talia said quietly.

Recognizing her tone, Abby realized that she’d made another verbal misstep. While she wasn’t sure, it was entirely likely that Talia would never know the joy of bearing children. Not in the traditional sense, at least. That alone was enough to throw plenty of young women into a spiraling depression, but to have it come on the heels of becoming an undead monster? That had to make it hit all the harder. It was yet another weight on the young woman’s shoulders, and Abby couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before she collapsed under her burden.

“God, I’m sorry,” Abby said. “I wasn’t thinking. Everything’s going to be –”

“It’s fine,” Talia interrupted, waving her clawed hand. “Just drop it. We need to move on, find the alchemist, and figure out how we’re going to get out. Talking about my issues is a distraction we can’t afford right now.”

While Abby agreed, she didn’t like leaving things the way they were. So, she said, “Fine. You’re right. But when we get to safety, we’re going to talk about it. I don’t know if it’ll help, but having someone to talk to can’t hurt.”

“Very well,” Talia said.

After that, they continued on their way. However, the city seemed endless, and as they went deeper beneath the mountain, it became clear that it had been intended to house far more giants than it currently did. There were whole swaths of the city that were entirely abandoned; if everything hadn’t been made of stone, Abby had no doubt that many of the dwellings would have collapsed and rotted. As it was, most were covered in thick layers of fuzzy fungus, and there were clumps of stout mushrooms on most of the walkways. Slowly, the mountain had begun to reclaim its territory.

“This isn’t working,” Abby said in frustration. They hadn’t seen a hint of habitation for over an hour, and it was clear that they’d passed far beyond the city’s current boundaries. “Any ideas?”

“We must subdue a Jotun and question it,” Talia suggested. “Without information, we will never find the alchemist. We may have already wasted too much time.”

Abby was well aware of that fact. With every step, Tucker was that much closer to death. And given the evidence they’d seen, the Jotuns wouldn’t need much of a push to end his life.

Sighing, she said, “Okay. But we’re not killing them.”

“That’s unwise,” Talia stated. “We mustn’t leave evidence of our presence.”

“But –”

“You are too softhearted,” Talia stated. “I was like that, I think. Before my transformation. But now, I see things more logically. My emotions are still there. I feel them. But they are muted. This way is better, I believe.”

Abby thought about it for a moment. Certainly, she had seen the growing evidence that Talia had begun to think differently than the rest of them. It wasn’t that she was cold; she wasn’t. Rather, it was just as she’d said – her emotions seemed less capable of influencing her actions. Perhaps they were weaker, but Abby hoped they were still there. The idea of an undead killing machine devoid of human empathy was a terrifying one, indeed.

However, she also knew that Talia was right. Unless they got some more information, there was no way they’d ever find Tucker. Hoping to simply stumble upon him was a fool’s errand, and one that had become readily apparent the longer they’d been in the frost giant city.

Shaking her head, Abby said, “Alright. Let’s backtrack, then. There was a cavern a few miles back that only had a couple of occupants. I’m sure we could…do what’s necessary.”

And so, without further discussion, the pair of women turned around and returned from whence they had come. One walked with absolute surety, but the other’s hesitant steps spoke clearly to her hesitation.