Fire. The thick, choking scent of smoke smothering her as she tried desperately to catch her breath. She could hear screams below, the clash of metal above, could sense the gravitational, electric pull of magic and spells on all sides. 

“Lady Adamina.” She heard her name, turned to meet it, and saw, instead of the monsters she imagined pacing around the castle, the friendly face of one of her tutors. His name was Alizarin; he had been a constant, steadfast advisor to her, and even though she had nearly surpassed his bank of knowledge already, there was nothing that would have kept him from encouraging her to go further. To take it that extra step. To–

“Adamina.” His usually serene voice, perfect for long-winded lectures, was tight with some emotion she couldn’t place. She had never heard him like this. He almost sounded worried.

“I’m here,” she said, stirring in her bed, her voice still heavy with the sleep she had been wrested out of, waking to the smell and sound of her life burning down all around her. Somewhat literally, somewhat metaphorically.

“Thank the stars.” Her tutor eyed her with a grim look on his proud face, gesturing for her to come to his side. When she rolled out of bed and scampered over, not understanding, or perhaps not wanting to understand, he touched noses with her, a gesture more intimate than he usually allowed. It was more appropriate between parent and child, or between two lovers; it was like he was saying goodbye. She found herself a little taken aback. “Adamina,” he went on, “listen to me. You are in danger. You are all in danger. Your mother, your father, they are… indisposed, and your cousins, too. I need you to do exactly as I say.”

“Alizarin?” she asked, her voice trembling more than she would like. 

He didn’t let her say any more than that. “Hush, child. For this to work, you have to do exactly what I say. You can’t hesitate or ask questions. And, above all, you must not disobey. I hate to be so grave, but little one, this is not a game. Your life is on the line.”

She was listening, but she wasn’t comprehending. “I--”

“Adamina.” Alizarin’s voice was firm, and when she looked up at him, past his recognizable tutor’s books and robes, past his familiar beard, past his newly flared nostrils and flattened ears to his eyes, she did not like what she saw there one bit. She may be just a foal, but she wasn’t stupid. He… was afraid.

She had never seen him afraid.

She blinked, steeling herself, and finally let the realization wash over her. This really wasn’t a game. Something serious was going on. Something serious that would have terrible consequences if she didn’t do as she was told.

“Tell me what to do.”

A breath went out of the old Heraldic Courser, relieved, looking suddenly twice his age, and Adamina knew he was already ancient. It was a feat to still be standing, much less standing against something like this. Whatever was biting at his heels, it was taking a toll on him. “Come with me,” he told her. “Step exactly where I step. Don’t make a single sound. And if something happens to me…” His mouth compressed into a thin line. “Run. Run like the wind, and don’t you stop for anything. House Erythros will fall if we lose you. The future of more than your toys and your books is at stake.”

He was lucky that Adamina was not the type to shy away from such heavy words. Instead of being terrified, she took it in stride, using it to shore up her weaknesses and make sure she would have nothing left to exploit. As the heir to her small kingdom, she had always understood that she was important. Perhaps more important than others. Her cousins would never be her; she would never be them. Alizarin was right. If they lost her, it would all fall.

“I’m ready,” she told him. He nodded, and without another word, turned around and went back out of her room into the hall.

The moment they left the safety of her isolated tower, everything was lost to chaos. The old scholar was no warrior, but he was all Adamina had. As she watched with wide, wide eyes, she caught sight of her House’s knights, the mages, even the scholars she had assumed were mostly helpless, locked into vicious battles with strange Coursers in shining silver and orange livery. She caught sight of a cousin driving his weapon through an enemy puck’s hind leg, and heard the scream as she fell. She stepped in a pool of gore and viscera leaking from another corpse, caught sight of a familiar red shine to the mane, and looked away before she could identify who it was that had been lost to the battle.

She followed Alizarin as best she could, but at best, he was shuffling her through an active warzone, and at worst, they were both only delaying the inevitable. There were simply too many enemy knights to fight off. They were swarming, overwhelming the Erythros Coursers on all sides, like an upset anthill, except that they were the ants scurrying around and trying, in vain, to make some kind of an impact on the tide of the battle before they fell to it all the same.

“Adamina, left!”

She dodged left without looking. She could hear the whistle of cold steel as it whizzed past her right ear, exactly where her face had been just moments ago. 

“Adamina, duck!”

She ducked. Again, the deathly close clang of metal on metal rang out right where she’d been. This time, when she scrambled away, she caught sight of one of her favorite cousins, closer related than many of the others, her mother’s sister’s son. He was a classic, dashingly handsome Courser, the same brilliant red color that marked most of House Erythros’ strongest children. His mane and tail were a thick ginger, and his eyes a tender, honey brown that glowed golden in the sunlight. Adamina called him brother more often than she called him cousin.

“‘Mina! Run!” he called out for her, not looking up as he crossed swords with his opponent, a massive, heavily muscled black horse, outfitted in shining silver and orange armor. Edom, the cousin, had none. They had been caught unawares. Didn’t expect such a concentrated effort, or any at all. Adamina could see how hopelessly outmatched he was before they ever took a swing at each other.

“Edom!” she screamed, distressed, forgetting her vow to be silent and follow Alizarin’s instructions. 

As she watched, her beloved cousin, closest to her heart, the one she shared blood with as well as fine pastries and noonday breaks, the one who had made her laugh so hard she fell over wheezing the day she failed her first exam, the one who never passed her without a smile and a hello no matter how busy he must be as he rushed around the palace on sentry duty, her Edom, her everything, turned to look at her, answering the call of the softest spot in his heart.

And as she watched him turn to answer her, his eyes widened and his mouth fell open in shock instead, his legs collapsing underneath him. He fell hard to the stone floor, and Adamina, for one crazed, hysterical moment, thought, He will be buried with blemished knees, how ugly, before the rest of his weight followed as he tumbled lifelessly to the ground. The massive black horse behind him laughed loud enough that she could hear over the heat of the battle, wrenching his sword from Edom’s pierced carcass and turning to find someone else to slaughter. Dead. He was dead before he even hit the ground, and it was all her fault for distracting him.

Edom.

In another life, he would lay there without moving, forever silenced, his twisted and marred body spread out across the tile floor.

In this one, he would jerk back to life again. He would twist his neck back the correct way. He wouldn’t swallow down the blood dripping from his open mouth, letting it drip down his chest and stain the noble chestnut fur a tainted crimson. He would blink his filmy, clouded eyes, no longer golden, but a flat, dead yellow. And he would advance on Adamina, crowding her back up against the unforgiving walls of her own home, the chill in her heart worse than the coolness of the stones on her back.

“Mina,” he would growl, a feral thing, unrestrained. With every step, he looked less and less alive, his body straining to hold itself together even bleeding and broken and dead. “Mina.”

“Edom,” she would sob, backing up until she physically couldn’t any more, helpless to get out of the way as he stepped close, closer, closest. Until the blood bubbling up out of his mouth would drip onto her face, stinking with the bitter, rotted scent of things that were better buried and gone.

“Adamina. Why did you kill me?” his corpse would demand, so close she could smell the stench of blame on his breath.

“I didn’t,” she would swear, sobbing harder, tears blurring her vision. “I didn’t!”

“Then why am I dead?” this thing would press, no longer Edom, but a shell of something that had once been Edom, had once served as his shell. His unblemished skin now bruised and torn, his perfectly coiffed mane now tangled and ratty, his brushed-smooth coat now stained and pierced and wrong, bones creaking as its flesh shambled onwards to claim revenge for his untimely end. “Tell me. You know what you did wrong, Adamina, and you know it’s your fault.”

At last, she would relent, knees weak, sliding down to the floor as this awful creature loomed over her, knowing her sins and making her see them, too.

“I’m sorry,” she would cry, then again and again and again until she ran out of breath. “I’m sorry, Edom, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry never fixed anything,” he would growl, then he would lunge for her.

Then she would wake up.

Disoriented. Sure she was still in the castle that day. Sure her mad, crazed cousin was trying to enact revenge for the way she had gotten him killed, had caused his death. 

Slowly, her breaths would return to a speed that wasn’t threatening to rip her lungs from her chest. Slowly, she would blink and realize the dim light was radiating from the dungeon flora around her, not because something horrible stood in front of her, demanding retribution, blocking out the sun and any warmth in ehr world. Slowly, she would push herself up on shaky legs, recount how she had gotten away that day, had fled, had gone to the only place she knew she wouldn’t be followed: down into the dungeons, deeper, then deeper, then deeper still.  She would remember that Edom never moved again, and that, no matter how his ghost might haunt her dreams, he would have never held it against her for making a mistake like that. He was a sweet creature, soft, not prone to grudges and strife.

She was safe here. This was home. The dungeons that tortured others served her instead.

Many Coursers came here seeking adventure. Honor. Glory. Some seek treasure, some seek power. Some seek fame, and some seek a sense of purpose to their lives.

Adamina was here because, without it, she would be dead.

She had no choice. But she wouldn’t change the one she had made if she could.

The dungeons were home, and she would not leave again, would not let herself hurt someone else the way she had hurt Edom. Never.