Or, at least, Jasper thought they were trapped. As the Fey on the far side of the portcullis stepped forward, drawing their bows, Nissilât dissolved into the shadows, reappearing behind them a fraction of a second later. Two fell to her daggers immediately, and another two died before they even realized they were under attack. She dragged down a fifth before the remaining three finally got a bead on her, releasing their volley of arrows as she began to shift back into the shadows. She was fast, but not quite fast enough; though most of the arrows fell behind her, one buried itself into her thigh as she disappeared.

The Fey spun around as she vanished, drawing their bows with shaky hands as they aimed at the shadows behind them, but Nissilât wasn't foolish enough to repeat the same trick twice. She reappeared in the same place she had vanished and charged toward them silently. The arrow in her thigh slowed her steps, though, and this time the Fey heard her coming.

She lunged forward as the three men caught sight of her, ripping the throat out of the one on the left before he had a chance to release his arrow. She twisted her body to the side as the remaining two fired again, and their bolts hit the dirt behind her. Another arrow brushed her side as Nissilât danced forward, slicing through the second's throat and ducking beneath a wild haymaker from the third. She bobbed up behind him and struck one more time, a calculated blow that slipped her dagger between his vertebrae, severing the spinal cord without killing him. She stepped over the Fey as he twitched on the ground, his body unresponsive to his will, and yanked the arrow out of her thigh before walking over to the long chains that lowered and raised the portcullis.

Grabbing the ends, Nissilât strained to lift the gate, but despite the intricate system of pulleys that eased the task, the massive iron gate was still so heavy that she only budged it a few inches. She tried again, bracing her foot against the wall until it crept upward a few inches above the groove. That was enough for the others to join in, and with their combined effort, finish raising the portcullis.

As Jasper stepped over the threshold, he cast Circle of Forgiveness on Nissilât, closing her wounds. "So you've been holding out," he commented wryly. "Not that I can complain - you really saved our asses."

"I'm sure you would've managed," she replied dismissively.

"I'm sure we would have found a way, but it would have been a hell of a lot harder," Jasper retorted. "Have you always been able to do that, or is that something you picked up from your new patron?" he prodded.

"Oh, are we sharing details of our classes now?" Nissilât smirked.

Of course. Jasper rolled his eyes as he turned away, wondering again exactly what class she had. He'd assumed she was some sort of shadow mage, but judging from S̆ams̆ādur's description of the ritualistic spell she'd cast, he wondered if she was something darker. As long as she wasn't a cultist, though, he supposed he didn't care. Let her keep her secrets.

As he scanned their surroundings, he had a pretty good idea of where they were. The tunnel had exited into a large courtyard three stories tall. Dozens of small, tightly packed rooms surrounded an empty yard, while a solid dome sealed off any glimpse of the sky. Are we still underground? The lack of any visible windows coupled with the solid stone dome made it seem likely that they were still somewhere below the castle.

"Where's the rest of the enemy?" Jasper glanced over as Ihra came to stand beside him, bouncing nervously on the balls of her feet as she searched the dark courtyard.

"It wasn't much of an ambush," Jasper agreed. "Then again, maybe it wasn't an ambush at all. Maybe it was a group of guards who didn't realize we were coming until the last minute."

"If you are worrying there are more waiting for us, don't both," S̆ams̆ādur butted in. "We're far from alone in this castle, but everyone I sense is much higher up," he pointed toward the ceiling, confirming Jasper's suspicion that they were underground.

"Any chance we can sneak out of the castle without heading up there," he questioned Ihra. "Surely there's got to be a secret exit or something like that."

"There might be," she agreed wryly, "but the map wasn't detailed enough to show that, so unless we want to waste time looking for it, we're probably better off just fighting our way through."

"Yeah…about that," Jasper grimaced. "The fight may not be as easy as it seems. When I spoke to Bēlet-Imtu, she told me that Qas̆pûl, the Fey I possessed when we were sent back to the city's fall," he added for the others, "never escaped the city. According to her, he's now the lord of this castle."

"Selene's grace - did we just doom them all?" Ihra cursed.

"It might have been better if they'd killed themselves like they'd planned," Jasper admitted, "but there's nothing we can do about it now. Regardless, I think we better be prepared for a tough fight if we head higher up into the castle. Maybe it is worth looking for another exit, even if takes a while to find it."

"Unfortunately, time is not on our side," S̆ams̆ādur cut in. "There are reinforcements in the tunnels behind us. A lot of them."

"How many are we talking about?" Jasper asked.

"Hundreds, maybe thousands," the prince shook his head. "More than we can fight, and they headed our way."

"Damn it. And how many are above us?" Jasper asked.

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"Maybe a hundred, but they're more spread out."

"That's still a lot, but it's…manageable," he sighed. "I guess we have no choice. Up it is."

Despite the time crunch, they were forced to search through the interior of the barracks before they finally found a staircase that led higher up in the castle. They were even further down than Jasper had expected as the staircase exited into a series of warehouses whose shelves were stocked with thousands upon thousands of supply crates, most of which remained completely untouched despite the many years that had passed since Iltabrīt's fall. Only a handful of guards patrolled the silent halls and, with S̆ams̆ādur's aid, they eliminated them silently and efficiently. Yet, despite their best efforts, their presence in the castle was eventually noticed. "They're pulling back," the durgu warned, "and regrouping ahead."

Thus, with the enemies retreating before them, there was no one to slow them down as they fled through the castle's lower floors, but the sheer size of the castle caused them to get lost more than once, and the whole party was getting antsy before they finally stumbled upon a massive spiral staircase from whose lofty heights the sunlight trickled down.

"This has got to be the way up."

"Aye," S̆ams̆ādur agreed, "but the enemy has also gathered nearly directly above us. It might be better to look for another set of stairs."

"What about the others?" Jasper asked.

"They're closing in," the durgu admitted.

"Then I guess we're fighting our way out."

They proceeded up the opulent marble stairs cautiously, spells and weapons held at the ready, as they anticipated being jumped, but they reached the top unhindered and exited into a massive chamber that could only be the castle's great hall. The room was truly gargantuan, with a vaulted ceiling high enough to swallow a cathedral whole and pillared corridors wider than the length of a football field. Every inch of the hall was dripping in luxury, from the green marble floors that were polished till they shone like the sun, to the towering pillars wrapped in gold and gems, or the elaborate murals that covered the ceiling. The height of the opulence was focused on the nave where a crystal throne sat, surrounded by a semi-circle of golden warriors, each one uniquely decorated.

But though the throne sat empty, a small army blocked the path to the exit. As heavily armored as the ones they'd fought in the tunnels, the Fey waited in formation, shield wall locked and long pikes lowered.

A single man stood outside of the formation, clutching a black, twisted horn in his hand. His face was hidden by the ornate, lion-crested helmet he wore, but there was no doubt in Jasper's mind who he was. This was Lord Qas̆pûl.

For a brief moment, silence reigned over the hall as the two groups stared at each other. Then, the man stepped forward and spoke.

"It's you." The sheer venom in the man's voice was almost enough to make Jasper step back. "You are the reason I'm here, the false messengers of a false goddess, the fools who gave me hope."

Jasper hadn't realized the strange Fey were even capable of talking but, then again, he really knew nothing of what was afflicting them. I guess they're not mindless after all. Blinking away his surprise, he stepped forward and lowered his weapon in a show of peace. "I don't know who you are," Jasper lied. "But we have no quarrel with you. We just want to leave this city."

"So did I," the man spat. "But I would have settled for being dead. You took that from me."

"I don't know what you're talking-"

"STOP. LYING." Dark mists swirled around the man as he stepped forward with a snarl. "I recognized your spirits as soon as they entered this realm. How could I not? You were in me."

It was pointless, Jasper realized to lie, and probably equally pointless to keep talking, but he tried one more time. "We meant you no harm. We were only there on your goddess' request."

"Ah, the Mistress of Poisons," Qas̆pul's laugh was a high-pitched shriek. "A minor daughter of a minor son, hardly worth the title of deity. Long has she tried and failed to put me down, but, today, I shall have my revenge."

"For what?" Jasper stalled for time as he reached for a spell.

"For what?" the Fey noble exploded again. "Do you have any idea what it's like to hear the knocking? To see the golden door, to know that the incessant knocking can only be stopped once you step through it? You are doomed from the first moment you hear it; none can resist its call - but I have held out. For two hundred years, I have held out, waiting for the day you returned."

"Today I step through that door - today you die."

"Soul Sear." As the man's eyes glazed over, Jasper launched his spell. The fiery orbs that rippled from his hands were a touch larger than before and nearly silver in color but otherwise they resembled the orbs of Shooting Star closely.

He was dimly aware of the others attacking around him as the first of the orbs hit the front row of the Fey, slightly too far away to catch the noble in their radius, and he cast the spell again before following up with Seraph Burst.

He aimed his glaive at the man's heart as he rocketed toward Qas̆pul, who stood frozen in place, his eyes locked in front of him as if he was staring at something only he could see, and for a moment, Jasper felt a surge of hope that this would be easy after all. Just don't move.

But he was twenty feet away when the eyes snapped to him, eyes that burned with a golden fire. It was another second before he reached the noble, but it was too late. Qas̆pûl moved so fast that he was literally a blur as he sidestepped Jasper and hammered him into the ground. Bones broke as Jasper bounced against the marble, but he'd already prepared a healing spell. Circle of Forgiveness swelled up in him as he rolled beneath the noble's strike and leaped backward, into the ranks of the Fey. Might as well use his anger against him.

Just as he thought, Qas̆pûl showed no regard for his soldiers as he pounced on Jasper, snarling with rage as he manifested a pair of golden claws that sliced through his armor like a hot knife through better.

Jasper staggered back, barely managing to cast Punishing Hand as the Fey lunged for him again, and Qas̆pûl hesitated as the pale, wriggling hand rose from the floor.

"Hehehe." His manic laughter rose above the chaos as he eyed the hand. "Tis a good spell," Qas̆pul snarled, "but it won't be enough to save you from me. BALAṬ," he hissed and Jasper's eyes widened as the golden statues behind the throne moved.

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