The party of coursers moves deeper into the dungeon, all of them on edge after the close call with the abyss. Except for Remington. Remington does not care about almost falling into the abyss, he just cares about his stomach. And he makes this known.

“We need to find food before I wither away.” The bay courser whines. 

“We know, Remington. YOU were in charge of bringing food though…” Cash responds, tossing his brown and white mane, careful not to disturb his snail, Gert, from where he was napping in the courser's forelock.

Remington doesn’t respond to this, and instead grumbles under his breath to his goose, who honks back sympathetically. Demure, the third and final member of the party, and her blue wisp, Grandmother, laugh at the other’s antics. After what, to Remington, felt like forever, the coursers and their pets came across a small, haggard tree, brimming with apples. Despite the plant's withered appearance, the fruit was ripe and juicy, and exactly what Remington needed. The other animals also didn’t argue to a small snack.  After they all had their fill, they journeyed on, a new vigor in their movements. 

After a while more of walking, with only one small run-in with a group of imps, the party arrives at a tunnel, long and dark and strangely alluring. Gerd, who had finally awoken and ventured out of Cash’s forelock, retreated back into it, uneasy at the sight of the tunnel. The wisp and goose were also troubled at the tunnel’s appearance, and fell back behind their coursers. Cash, ever fearless, walked straight in, rummaging in his satchel to pull out a torch, as does Remington, at the end of the line. Demure, in the middle, simply uses the glow of Grandmother to see. The courser's hooves clang against the tunnel’s floor, which was made of bricks of stone, dust collecting in the grooves. As they venture deeper into the tunnel, the air becomes thick, and a sense of evil hangs in the air. As the tunnel begins to slope upwards, the walls and floor become more refined and ornate. Every stone has a solid golden symbol of an eye on it, and the carefully carved walls have evenly set scones that once held torches, but were now full of cobwebs and dust. A shiver goes through Demure, her subconscious picking up on something that she couldn’t quite name. Suddenly, all three coursers become aware of a soft sound of something trickling. Water? Cash shines his torch around the walls and ceiling, looking for the source of the noise.

“Uhh.. guys?” Remington pipes up from the back. The other two turn to him, and he motions down at their hooves. The sound was coming from a dark liquid running between the cracks of the brick. A sinister air was emitted from the liquid, which almost seemed to squirm as it trickled down the passageway. 

“Eugh.” Demure wrinkles her pink nose, lifting each hoof to check if any got on her. Cash shook his head, the same feeling of unease settling over him that the pets had felt before the group even entered the tunnel. However, the unease was accompanied by curiosity, which he could tell that the rest of the party shared. So, they continue walking, following the trail of dark ooze. After a few short minutes, they enter a wide circular chamber, in the center of which is a stone sarcophagus, covered in elaborate gold detailing -- in the shape of eyes. The trail of liquid leads straight to the open mouth of the sarcophagus, the lid having been discharged to the side. The coursers, who have stopped at the entrance of the chamber, exchange a look. 

“I ain’t going anywhere near that thing,” Remington declares, planting his hooves on the stone floor. Demure shows a similar reserve, so Cash steps forward, carefully trying to avoid touching the liquid. Walking gingerly, he approaches the sarcophagus. Stealing his nerve, he peers into the depths of the stone box. It is full of the dark liquid, and this time it definitely is squirming. Cash backs away, sensing a deep evil coming from the liquid. The sarcophagus suddenly bursts, pieces of stone going everywhere as the liquid jumps out, lunging towards the coursers. With barely any time to think, the animals turn and run, the liquid coursing behind them like a flash flood. The corridors fill with the rushing sound of the liquid flowing across the stone floor, and the coursers pour even more energy into their legs. Finally, they exit the tunnel, liquid still rushing behind them. Remington, in the lead, remembers the path that they had come down; it has a wide gap that they had to jump. Praying that the liquid wouldn't be able to bridge the gap, he veers towards it, hoping the others will follow. The pounding of hooves behind him tells him that they do, and reaching the gap, they all jump it, one by one. They continue running, until they hear a splash behind them. Slowing, they turn, and see the liquid pouring down, into the gap in the path. Not wanting to stick around to see what would happen, the party hurries down the trail, eager to put distance between themselves and the liquid and the strange chamber.