If a half dozen fairies with ittybitty knives are all they have to worry about, Luca feels pretty good about their odds. After all, this is barely the first level of the dungeon. The group seems restless as they proceed, though, and he can see them occasionally tilting their heads together in the gloom, outlined by torchlight. He can never hear what they're saying. And it's eerie, everything seems to bo growing darker, little lights he could have sworn were eyes blinking in the corners of his vision— Luca finds himself skittering away from dark recesses in the stone, wary of what might lurk, and he could swear he hears laughter. Are those meatheads laughing at him? The nerve.

But when he looks at them, they're all stone faced. Eyes again, glinting in the gloom. When he swings his head to and fro, Luca feels like he's being watched, like the very walls are giggling at him. He stumbles, and one of his chaperones nudges him, but he can't tell if the tittering and whispering is coming from their companion or the dungeon itself.

Finally, the party slows. Ahead, Luca can see a long narrow hall, criss-crossed with strands and globules of fungus, like viscera. Looking closely, not a single one of his companions seems to be speaking, yet the whispering and laughter continues. At once, it seems to crescendo in a swell of mirth— And then it falls silent.

Far down the tunnel, the clack of hooves echoes as someone approaches.