The night sky covered the land in darkness, pierced only by the silver light of the moon. The great stone walls of the keep loomed behind me, strong, but vulnerable, the shattered gate allowing easy entrance... provided they make it past us.

  The sharp twang of bowstrings sounded from above, ahead the clang of steel. Cries of anguish echoed all around us and the stench of blood grew stronger.

  Finally through the front line, it lumbered toward us, each heavy step reverberating through the ground, shaking the earth beneath our feet.

  Its fangs were knives, dripping with the blood of my brothers. Claws, jagged and glinting like greatswords, carved deep furrows into the earth. Horns, as sharp and menacing as lances, curved skyward, gleaming with an unholy sheen.

  A demon.

  The men at arms charged the abomination, their chainmail clattering in a cacophony of desperation and courage. Poison-tipped spears, in the hands of each man, pierced its flesh, but the demon remained unmoved, the wounds knitting together faster than they could be inflicted.

  It retaliated with merciless brutality. Its claws swept through the ranks, cleaving men in two with sickening ease. Blood sprayed in thick arcs, painting the ground red. Screams of pain and terror filled the air as shattered armor and torn flesh littered the earth.

  I stepped forward, the weight of my heavy plate mail pressing against my shoulders. My warhammer, ablaze with holy fire, illuminated the carnage around me. The panicked cries of fleeing men filled the air. I could not blame them. That thing had just slain a dozen men with ease....

  But a knight does not falter.

  With a roar, I charged the beast. My defiant cry called to the fleeing men to remember their oaths. The demon towered before me, its jagged horns and smoldering eyes promising death.

  It swung, a massive, clawed arm aimed to crush me where I stood. I twisted my body, and felt its great claws graze my armor, but fail to pierce it. Without breaking stride, I raised my warhammer high, the holy flames licking hungrily along the fine steel.

  I smashed it into the monster's side, my muscles bulging with holy might as the beast reeled in pain. It retaliated swiftly, a giant hand descending from above, ready to crush me flat. There was no time to dodge; it was too fast. Instead, I swung upward to meet it, my flaming hammer rising just as its great arm fell.

  "GrrrRRaaaaGghhh!!!"

  The beast bellowed, its wrist shattering beneath the force of my warhammer, deflecting the blow that would have ended me. Clutching its ruined hand, it staggered, a guttural snarl escaping its maw.

  I seized the opening without hesitation, driving my weapon into its knee. Bone crunched under the impact, and the monster collapsed with a thunderous crash, forced down onto one leg, vulnerable at last.

  "By Lumina’s light!" I bellowed, swinging with all the strength I could muster. The hammer crashed into the demon’s skull with a sickening crunch, the force reverberating up my arms. Blackened ichor erupted like a geyser, splattering my armor and painting the ground in its vile essence.

  The demon fell... dead.

  I looked down on the slaughtered beast, and a flicker of hope formed in my heart.

  But that.... thing, was just one of many.

  An endless tide slouched toward us, their bodies grotesquely malformed, possessed with unholy power. Some burned with dark fire, others were more liquid than solid, not a single one of the foul creatures was the same. But they moved as one, a seething mass of evil, a tide of death coming to crush our last stand.

  The men faltered at the sight of the horde, their hands trembling on their weapons as dread seeped into their hearts. Some whispered desperate prayers to the goddess, others barked orders, their words faltering as the sounds of snarling monsters drowned out their commands. A few stood paralyzed, their eyes wide with terror, deaf to all the chaos around them.

  But we are men of the west. Fear may batter our spirits, smother our hopes, but we do not yield. Our arrows rained down from the battlements, sinking into the demonic horde by the hundreds, each one tipped with holy oils, poison to these foul abominations. Below, at the shattered gate, we held the line. Conscripts, men-at-arms, knights, together, we stood as one.

  But our valor goes unrewarded. For our defiance, as if summoned by our final act of courage...

  It came, our death knell echoing in the chilling air.

  The clouds parted.

  And a great crack tore through the sky.

  With a deafening scream, their abominable god descended. A colossal amalgam of writhing dark flesh and jagged black bone, its form a blasphemy against creation, a nightmare that loomed taller than the mountainside.

  Its twin horns spiraled into the night sky, their jagged contours emitting an eerie, pale light. They framed a hollow black skull, its cavities leaking tendrils of writhing darkness. Below, its demonic form twisted and churned with sinews of shadowed muscle. In its clawed hand, it wielded a blazing alien sword, its blade shimmering with purple fire, burning not with heat but with the consuming agony of the souls within. The air around it warped, a distortion that seemed to bleed reality itself, mutating all it touched.

  From the gash in space it fell through, seeped a viscous, unholy ichor, raining down in corrupted torrents. Each droplet struck the earth with a hiss, twisting soil and stone into writhing horrors. A single drop unraveled the minds of even the most steadfast, driving the bravest knights to madness.

  We were undone.

  No man could stand against such a horror.

  Even Hell itself could not contain it.

  With one swing of its otherworldly blade, our army and our keep were both swept away. Flesh and bone tore as rivers of blood flowed unchecked. Our bodies twisted and defiled, grotesquely reshaped by its unholy power. Brave men of the west, defenders of our realm, were transformed into abominable demons, unwilling thralls bound to the will of that primeval god.

  It was the end, for us, for our kin, and for all those of the light and the good. The kingdom fell silent, its light smothered, as the last hope of men was consumed by the dark.

  "Urgh..." I groan, rubbing my aching head as I lie sprawled on cold, wet stone. The damp chill seeps into my bones, the stale air thick with the scent of decay and mold. "What the fuck was that? A dream?"

  Gritting my teeth, I push myself up to my feet, swaying slightly as dizziness lingers.

  Right... I came down here to...

  My vision clears. The chamber around me is vast, a tomb built from old stone, its walls degraded and crumbling. Torchlight flickers weakly from distant sconces I lit earlier, the only source of light in this place. Through them am I able to see the many faded carvings and broken statues around me.

  My fingers tighten around something cold and solid.... an iron pendant, still clutched in my palm. The only damn thing of value in this crypt.

  I found this....

  I lift the pendant for a closer look. The chain is thick, its links jagged like serrated blades. Suspended from it is a octagonal metal piece, each corner adorned with wicked spikes. Strange carvings, runes of some sort, cover the surface. I've no idea what they mean or what their origin is, but they look interesting. The craftsmanship as a whole seems impressive and judging by its weight, the metal is probably high quality too.

  I’ll take it.

  Although... how the hell did I end up on the floor? Did I trip and fall? Did a stray rock fall from the crumbling ceiling and hit me?

  I try to steady my thoughts, forcing myself to remember what happened, how I even ended up here. I came to Mistvale Crypt for a.... particular reason.

  To scavenge.

  To find anything of value that could fetch a price. An unfortunate state of affairs, but my near empty purse left me with few choices. I need coin, a good amount of it if I’m ever going to get to Ravencroft. To get to Zaenith.

  Looking around, I recall finding a crumbling wall, with a few loose bricks and an opening barely noticeable. I smashed it down and found beyond it, this hidden chamber, untouched by earlier grave robbers.

  And then... the pendant. I found it in that stone coffin at the center of the chamber. That's the last thing I remember.

  I place the pendant around my neck and turn to the coffin, peering inside. Just bones, wrapped in a worn shawl. Nothing of real value that I can see. The pendant had been resting around its neck before I took it. No signs of what might have knocked me out, no fallen debris, no obvious traps.

  But then... what the hell got me?

  As I continue searching for clues, my gaze lingers on the stone structure, drawn to the intricate runes etched deep into its surface. Even the bones within bear similar markings, a heathen burial rite, perhaps? The crypt is old… old enough that we have no idea who built or used it. The village won’t even let anyone near it…

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Heh, not that I give a fuck.

  Suddenly, a voice cuts through my thoughts. "Oh? What've we got here?"

  I snap my head up, tucking the necklace beneath my tunic. Two figures emerge from the broken wall, a rough-looking man with a weathered face and a cocky smirk, and a young woman, barely older than a girl, though there’s nothing innocent about her hungry expression, or the way she holds her hand on the knife at her hip.

  Another looter.... damn. Bad luck.

  "Well now, ain't this a stroke of fate, friend?" the man says, his grin widening. "Didn’t reckon on findin’ company in a hole like this."

  His tone is friendly, disarmingly so. The woman watches me with a glare, but sticks close to the man beside her.

  I clear the matted strands of dark hair from my face, taking a good look at the pair.

  Hmm… Father and daughter maybe? Or… maybe not, judging by the way his hand lingers on her waist.

  “Name’s Jonah, an’ this here’s me wife, Gretchen. A pleasure.” He grins, tugging his young wife in close. “And who might you be, my unusually tall friend?”

  Hesitantly, I introduce myself in kind. “Seven. Good to meet you. I assume the two of you are looters?”

  He glances around, shaking his head. "Aye, but it looks like this crypt’s been stripped bare. Ain’t much left worth pilferin’, eh? Figures. Places like this get ransacked a dozen times 'fore the likes of us were even born.”

  He sighs, sitting onto the edge of the large stone coffin. Pulling his pack onto his lap, he digs out a worn flagon, stretching his legs out as he takes a long drink. Beside him, Gretchen sits stiffly, her body tense, her wary eyes flicking between me and the entrance.

  "This place is a maze," Jonah mutters putting the wineskin down. "Never seen a crypt this big before. And there’s more floors to go. Might take us all night just to map it proper."

  He gestures to the edge of the coffin. "Come, sit. I want your thoughts on something."

  I hesitate. We’re 'rivals' of a sort. The way of looters is simple, whoever finds the spoils first, keeps them. That's how it works. But seeing the state of the crypt, I have a feeling that I just took the last item of worth.

  Jonah watches my indecision and smirks. "Oh, come on. Have a drink, talk a bit. If your insight’s good, I’ll offer you a turn with my pretty young wife."

  Gretchen stiffens, looking away sharply, jaw tight with anger. My gaze flicks to her.... a long crooked nose, ragged brown hair, several scars across her face.

  Hmph, I wouldn’t exactly call her pretty. But at least she’s got all her teeth.

  Still, why would he just offer her out? Seems kind of disgusting to me. Assuming he intends to keep on sleeping with her.

  Judging by her expression, she's not enthusiastic about the prospect either.

  "Gonna have to pass on that one, friend" I say, pulling my pack over my shoulder. This crypt has nothing left for me. Let him search the lower floors if he wants, it’s time for me to leave.

  Jonah exhales through his nose, nodding in acceptance. Gretchen’s shoulders ease just a little, though she keeps her eyes locked on the ground.

  "Suit yourself," Jonah says, taking another swig from his flagon. After swallowing it down, he leans forward. "But I am curious, what’s a young lad like you doing here? You’re barely out of boyhood, ain’t much more than twenty summers I'd wager. Shouldn’t you be learning a trade? Taking up work as a helping hand for some proper craftsman? You got family?"

  I got one alright, broken though it is.

  But I’m not gonna be discussing them with looter trash…. wait, what does that make me again?

  Jonah watches me for a moment, then nods knowingly, my silence apparently enough for him. "An orphan, huh? That'll do it."

  Jonah exhales, his voice lowering, the edge of humor fading. "Got a boy, y’know. Just a little thing. Can’t imagine leavin’ him behind. Gods, I’d never want him growin’ up alone in a world like this."

  He runs a hand over his face, fingers lingering at his temple, his usual smirk gone. "Ain't much of a life we lead, is it? Just takin’ what we can, hopin’ it’s enough."

  He stares off into the dark, somber, lost in his thoughts.

  Then his face hardens. "Course," he mutters, rising to his feet, "I’d hate for him to starve too."

  Gretchen stands beside him, casting me a sidelong glance. Jonah adjusts the straps on his pack, but his eyes never leave me.

  "Saw you stuff something in your tunic when we walked in," he says, voice casual. "Had a nice, shiny glint to it."

  My fingers twitch toward my belt. I meet his gaze, steady and unblinking.

  "Hate to be the one to say it, but I’ll be takin’ it off yer hands. And anything else of worth too."

  He draws a long knife, slow and deliberate, taking a step forward. The woman mirrors him, stepping to my side, cutting off an easy exit.

  Fuck. Now he's done it.

  "Back off cunt." I say, as I shift my stance, my fingers tightening around my own weapon.

  "Can't do that, friend. Got mouths to feed." Both he and his companion ignore my warning, approaching me slowly.

  "Think of your son. Another step and he really will be an orphan. I won't spare the woman either." I warn coldly.

  Both hesitate, even outnumbered, I stand almost two feet taller than either of them, not to mention the fact that one of them is a woman...

  Still, it's two against one, so I keep my distance, cautiously drawing my knife.

  "Easy now, friend, no need for bloodshed." Jonah says, though his blade remains upright. "Hand over the trinket, and we’ll be on our way. No harm’ll come to ya, by Lumina’s light, I swear it." He holds a hand out, the blade still in his other. "Think of my child. You really want him to starve?"

  I shrug my shoulders "Assuming you really do have a child...." I say, suspicious. "A generous assumption, given that both of you are here and not with him." I continue, circling him carefully. "It's still not my problem. He’s not my son.”

  Jonah's brow furrows with anger as his voice lowers dangerously. "You're a cruel one, aren't you boy?" He lowers his outstretched hand and instead draws another knife, twirling it skillfully. "I'll ask you one last time. Hand over the loot."

  The way he spins those knives make me nervous, as does the determination in his eyes.

  I’m no slouch in a fight, but what if he’s more dangerous than he looks?

  He’s not backing down either. He must be desperate. Maybe he wasn't lying about the child after all...

  I think to the pendant beneath my shirt. How much is it really worth? Is it really something I want to risk my life for? To potentially die for?

  .......

  Not really.

  My thoughts are cut short as a shadow flickers in the corner of my eye. I turn, but the moment I do Johan lunges, twin knives flashing, slicing through the air. I leap back on instinct, narrowly avoiding the first strike, but he keeps coming, blades ready.

  The woman moves in from the side, but slower, less less skilled. I duck beneath her swing and snatch her collar mid-motion, hauling her clean off her feet. With a single arm, I hurl her into Johan. He stumbles as she crashes into him, catching her awkwardly, then throws her aside without hesitation.

  But I'm already standing over him, my dagger raised.

  I bring it down in a cleaving arc toward his head. He blocks just in time, both daggers crossed above his brow. The force of the blow sends a shock through his arms, one of his blades chips, and so does mine. He reels, stepping back to recover.

  He rights himself fast, sneering.... but then he sighs, raising his arms.

  “Alright, I’ll admit it, lad,” he says, breathless but grinning. “You’re good. How about we-”

  I don't catch his next words as my attention is once again drawn to something in the corner of my eye. A dark shadow, moving fast-

  "Aaaarrgh!!!"

  A wet squelch fills the chamber as blood sprays across the stone walls. Jonah jerks violently, his body convulsing as he falls to the floor. His mouth stretches open, frothing red as his limbs seize and twitch.

  And then I see it.

  A thing of nightmares, crawling over him, its elongated legs clicking against the floor. Its mandibles, glistening with liquid, sink into his exposed throat, injecting something that turns his veins black in an instant. The man thrashes, his eyes rolling back, his skin swelling, bubbling.... melting. As the venom liquefies him from the inside out.

  "Oh fuck...."

  The spider, if it can even be called that, works with eery efficiency, its limbs moving fast, precise, spinning the corpse into a thick cocoon of silk.

  A shrill scream pierces the chamber. The woman, Gretchen.

  She stumbles back, her knife slipping from her fingers, her lips trembling as she shouts. "Jonah! JONAH!" But there is no answer. He is long gone.

  Something shifts in the creature. Its bulbous mass twitches, the blackened surface rippling as if something inside were pushing to escape. It turns its many eyes toward her.

  She grabs her knife and lunges, panic overriding reason. She plunges the blade into its eye, the iron slipping through the soft meat.

  It shrieks, black ichor spurting from the wound. It's a terrifying sound.

  The creature moves, fast, fluid.... intelligent. Its legs coil, and in the blink of an eye, it lunges, wrapping its appendages around her body like a grotesque hug.

  She screams, kicking, thrashing, but the thing holds her tight. The mandibles stab into her shoulder, deep, and then deeper, burrowing inside. Her screams shift into gurgled whimpers as something moves beneath her skin, tunneling through muscle and bone. Her fingers claw at the air, then go still.

  I'm already slipping away, moving around them to the hole in the wall I came through. I've got no interest in fighting this thing, let it have its meal.

  I have to get the fuck out of here!

  I look back as I slip through the exit and see it rapidly wrapping its second victim, the sticky silk tightening around her. Worse.... I see where it came from. A pitch black tunnel on the far side of the chamber, buried through the stone to the earth beneath, where more of its kind crawl to the surface.

  I don't stay long enough to see them emerge though, because I'm already running. Climbing a large crumbling staircase, out of this crypt, back into the world above.

  I ascend, step by step, my breath coming quick and ragged. The first floor is silent save for the distant sound of those spider, presumably feasting on those people. But as I climb higher, the silence breaks.

  A faint, rhythmic tapping.

  I whip around, my eyes darting across the shadows. At first, I see nothing. Then, from the corner of my eye… movement. A leg, long and spindly, curling around the edge of a crumbling doorway. Another. Then another.

  A spider.

  They caught up to me already?

  It's smaller than the last one, but still larger than a cat. It skitters forward, its eight glassy eyes locked on mine. My stomach lurches at the sight. Then, beyond it, another emerges from the dark. And another.

  They pour across the walls, their bodies rapidly closing in, their segmented legs moving unnaturally fast. Some fairly ordinary in size, large but no more so than my fist. Others are big enough to devour small animals.

  "Fuck, how many of them were in that tunnel!?"

  A sudden weight tugs at my shoulder, I look down... three crawl up my cloak, no larger than my clenched fist. I twist in revulsion and fumble at the clasp. The fabric slips from my shoulders as I yank it free, flinging the cloak to the ground.

  I have to get out of here!

  I run in a panic, bolting towards the next set of stairs.

  My boots slam against the stone steps as I climb, the stairs are slick, uneven, the railing long since crumbled away. I glimpse ruined alcoves as I pass, stone coffins split open, skeletal remains long since plundered.... and more spiders appearing from beyond them.

  The spiders chase, I can hear them, their limbs a cacophony of clicks and scratches.

  Pushing forward, I lunge up the last few steps of the second floor three at a time, almost slipping on a patch of moss-covered stone. I brace myself against the wall, barely catching my balance. Behind me, the spiders are catching up, skittering over obstacles with ease, their fangs clacking together in anticipation.

  But then I see it.

  Moonlight.

  The final floor stretches before me, the passage narrowing, the air finally shifting, fresh, cool. The last stretch to the surface.

  I throw myself up the final staircase, lungs burning, feet aching. I reach the top, my hands slamming against the thick stone doors, throwing them open before quickly turning and slamming them shut. I hear a loud thunk as it locks into place and I breathe a sigh of relief.

  The cold night air bothers me little, my pumping blood keeping me warm, even in the snow. My body is still shaking, I press my forehead against the crypt's rough stone exterior. I made it.

  But then...

  I feel it before I see it. The hairs on my neck rise. A presence looms above.

  I look up.

  Crawling down from the crypt's stone roof, is a spider, larger than a hound, its bloated form creeping closer and closer.

  Then, without a sound, it drops, landing behind me.

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