In the Halls of the Nightmare-Kings

Deep in the Labyrinth...

The rough-hewn stone walls began to bleed as Orphea passed, stalagmites erupting in oozing, fleshy wounds. The slender, pale woman paused for a moment, bending to examine the small puddle of gore pooling by her bare feet. As she trailed her long fingers through the blood, strange shapes began to clot and form in their wake, shapes almost maze-like in their complexity. Orphea smiled to herself; navigating the Labyrinth was easy, after all. You just have to pay attention.

Wiping the blood from her fingers, Orphea rose gracefully and was just about to resume her journey when a familiar sound, echoing down the twisting, narrow corridors, caught her attention. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized the pitiful sobbing.

“Cymbeline.”

Orphea's previous slow, cautious progress suddenly became a frantic chase as she scrambled through the basalt tunnels, desperately attempting to find the source of the sound before it ceased, as it had before. Turning a corner, a gaping chasm suddenly appeared before her, the sobbing echoing up from its depths. Without a moment's pause, Orphea dove off the precipce, growing feathers and wings as she fell. Seconds later, an owl banked sharply and flew into a tiny break between ancient, rusted mechanisms. When the gap widened into yet another corridor, feathers were traded for feet as Orphea continued to sprint ever deeper into the Labyrinth.

Rounding a corner, she finally found the object of her desperate chase. A young girl was slumped dejectedly against a broken pipe, black ichor slowly dripping down onto her torn and stained dress. As the girl looked up, startled by Orphea's sudden appearance, Orphea could clearly see that she was not her lost daughter: there were some similarities in height and features, but nothing more. An almost nauseating wave of disappointment washed over Orphea, something that she quickly concealed so as not to discomfit the poor lost girl.

“Well, hello there,” Orphea said softly, a cautious smile on her lips. “What's your name, darling?”

“Who are you?” the girl demanded, quickly wiping the tears from her face with a grubby hand. The other hand fell to the girl's side, defensively reaching for something that Orphea had mistaken for another piece of the twisted metal corridor. As the girl raised her hand, it became blatantly obvious that she was wielding a large soulsteel daiklave, and a wicked-looking one at that. Orphea quickly took a step backwards, raising her hands.

“No need for that,” she said quickly, “I'm just a traveller. I heard crying and I thought...well, I thought that maybe someone was in trouble.” Orphea breathed a silent sigh of relief as the girl lowered the huge sword, her defiant expression once again slipping into misery.

“I'm lost,” she confessed, an edge of tears creeping into her voice. “It all looks the same!” As the girl began to cry again, Orphea couldn't help herself- she stepped in and wrapped her arms around the poor little bundle, pressing her cheek to her tangled blonde hair as the girl was wracked with sobs.

“Shh, there there,” Orphea murmured. “Don't you worry, I'll get you out of here. What's your name?”

“F-Flower,” the girl sniffed, clearly a little embarrassed by the situation. She pulled away from Orphea's embrace, self-consciously straightening her ruined dress.

“Where are you going, Flower? This isn't exactly the safest place to be. Though I think, perhaps, that you can take care of yourself.” Orphea eyed up the daiklave and shot Flower a mischievous little smile that she tentatively returned.

“I'm not really going anywhere. Just...away.” Flower's grin wilted a bit at the thought. “But then my warstrider got stuck down there,” she pointed, slightly petulantly, down the narrowing passageway. “Why do these tunnels have to be so small?”

“Your...warstrider?” Orphea asked, incredulously. Flower nodded, and sure enough, when she led Orphea around a tight corner, there was a huge soulsteel construction wedged uncomfortably between two rusty outcroppings. As Flower patted it fondly, Orphea struggled to regain her composure.

“Uh, wow. That's...impressive. I'm sure we can get it out with a bit of effort. Let's give it a try.” After a few hours and the generous application elbow grease (and Flower demonstrating a truly remarkable talent for demolition), the warstrider eventually broke free with an ear-splitting screech of twisted metal and tortured souls. The two new friends sprawled on its wide flank, panting heavily from the exertion.

“Well, you don't do that every day,” Orphea sighed, taking a delicate sip from her silver hip flask before offering it to Flower. As the girl grinned happily back at her, Orphea was struck by an idea. “Flower...I don't know what you're running from, but why don't you come with me to Sijan? I have some business there, but then we can go wherever we want. See the world. Would you like that?”

Flower narrowed her eyes at Orphea, clearly evaluating her. “Why are you helping me?”

Orphea exhaled slowly. “Well, fistly, you needed help. I wouldn't leave anyone lost in this forsaken place, not even my worst enemy. And secondly...” Orphea paused for a moment, looking over Flower's face with a distant look in her eyes. “Secondly...you seem like a good person. I have a long way to go, and I don't want to do it alone. Will you come with me?”

Flower thought for a moment, then offered Orphea a small, dirty hand. “Deal.” She turned to the warstrider.

“Now, let's get this thing running.”