Joji dashed out of the dungeon. Behind him was only darkness, and the old marble floor was already giving way, crumbling into nothingness.
Curiosity tugged at him to look back, to see what lived in that black, but he could not afford it.
He jumped for the exit and broke through the veil. Stone met his shoulder.
Then his boots slipped and he plunged into the shallow water with a splash that stung cold through his clothes and armor.
Only Alaric waited there.
Walter had been tasked with talking to Mary Cathryn Lacrosse, keeping her from breaking apart in public.
Alaric stood in the water like a statue that had forgotten how to breathe.
When he looked at his arm, tears started to run down his face.
"My future as a knight is over," Alaric said, voice shaking. "My arm is crippled. It will need to be cut off soon."
"Don't be so dramatic, let me see it," Joji said.
Alaric held it out like it belonged to someone else. The bruising was already turning purple, swelling ugly.
