The halls of the tower stretched on longer than Atlas expected, carved from the same black obsidian as the cells below, polished smooth by time and claw and blood. Red torchlight clung to the walls in uneven intervals, casting warped shadows that bent and twisted as Seris and Atlas moved forward, their footsteps echoing softly through the corridor. The air was warmer here than in the tunnels, stale and dry, carrying the faint scent of incense and iron.
Seris walked a half step behind him, her hands resting near her bow even though she knew it wasn't there, her fingers flexing out of habit as her eyes scanned every corner, every archway, every place something could jump out at them. Atlas noticed it, the way she never stopped watching, never relaxed, and he filed it away without comment.
After several seconds of silence, she cleared her throat.
"So," Seris said, her voice casual but not careless, "why'd you want me to go with you?"
Atlas didn't look back. He kept his eyes forward, jaw set, shoulders loose but ready.
"I didn't," he replied flatly. "I just didn't want to stuck get stuck with the idiot. You're better off without him too."
Seris blinked, then let out a short breath that might've been a laugh.
"Wow," she said. "That's reassuring."
He shrugged as they passed beneath a high arch where the ceiling rose far above them, the stone etched with old demon script and reliefs of horned figures locked in battle. "He gets distracted. He's weak and a coward. You're not. Simple as that."
She studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Fair."
They continued on, the corridor sloping slightly upward now, the red light growing brighter as they moved deeper into the tower.
"You don't trust him," Seris added after a moment.
Atlas snorted. "Trust is a strong word."
"That wasn't a no."
He glanced sideways at her this time, catching the faint curl of a smirk at the edge of her mouth. "You trust him?"
She hesitated. "I trust that he means well. Most of the time."
"That makes one of us."
Seris shook her head. "You're hard on him."
"He almost got us executed."
She couldn't argue with that, so instead she changed tactics. "You're hard on everyone."
"That's my job."
She raised an eyebrow. "Your job is being an ass?"
Atlas stopped walking.
Seris almost ran into him.
He turned to face her, his expression was unreadable, his eyes sharp but not angry. "My job is getting this done and keeping you all alive long enough to make it matter. If that means being unpleasant, I don't lose sleep over it."
For a moment, the hall was quiet except for the distant crackle of torches.
Seris studied him, really studied him this time, and something in her expression softened. "You do lose sleep, though."
He scoffed. "You don't know that."
"I've seen you lay down enough times by now to know," she said. "You don't sleep. You just… stop moving."
That caught him off guard, and he didn't bother hiding it.
"Doesn't matter," he muttered. "Let's continue."
She nodded, understanding more than she let on. "Yeah. I figured."
She let out a sigh, "All I'm saying is you should at least call him by his name."
"Why does it matter, dark elf," he shrugged.
"And call me by name!" Seris punched his arm and giggled slightly, "It's Seris. Okay, Atlas?"
He looked in her eyes, at her kind smile. Atlas had never been looked at like that before. That same familiar twitch on his lips—the same feeling he felt on the back of Bithorn during their last conversation— happened again. He managed to suppress that smile.
"Alright then, Seris, let's go," he said flatly.
They started walking again, the tension easing just enough to be comfortable, and for the first time since entering the tower, Atlas found himself slightly less on edge than before.
---
Several halls away, Lorian Volkas was having the worst escort assignment of his life.
"This is stupid," Ako muttered as she stomped alongside him, her bare feet slapping against the stone with every irritated step. "Why do I have to go with you?"
"Because," Lorian said, hands clasped behind his head as he walked backwards, "Atlas hates fun, Seris tolerates you, and I am a delight."
She growled. "You tried to leave us to die."
"Temporarily," he corrected. "There's a difference."
Ako lunged at him, claws flashing, and he yelped as he vanished from sight, reappearing several steps ahead with his hands raised.
"Okay, okay," he said quickly. "Too soon. My bad."
She crossed her arms, tail flicking behind her. "If we die, I'm haunting you."
"You already do that, just. by talking," he muttered.
They moved through a narrower section of the tower now, the walls closer together, the ceiling lower, the air thick with heat. Strange carvings lined the stone here, jagged and uneven, as though the rock itself had been clawed into shape rather than cut.
Ako glanced around, ears twitching. "This place smells weird."
"Everything smells weird to you apparently," Lorian said.
"No, this smells… dead. Gross."
He grimaced. "You sure that's not just you?"
She snarled and swiped at him again, missing by inches as he danced out of the way. "Why are you like this?"
"Charming upbringing," he replied with that signature smirk. "Deep emotional trauma. All that bullshit."
They rounded a corner and nearly collided with a pair of demon guards, who froze when they saw them.
Lorian reacted instantly, snapping his fingers as two perfect copies of himself stepped out of thin air, all three speaking at once.
"Whoa, whoa, relax," the illusions said, hands raised.
The guards hesitated, confused, and that was all Ako needed. She darted forward, slamming into one guard's chest and knocking him flat while the other turned just in time to catch a knee to the jaw. Both went down hard.
Lorian stared. "You could've done that the whole time?"
She shrugged. "You were talking."
They dragged the unconscious guards into a side alcove, Lorian rifling through their belts with practiced ease.
"Still no sign Garruk yet," Ako muttered.
"Guy's hard to miss," Lorian said. "If we haven't found him yet, we might be in the wrong hall."
"That doesn't make me feel better."
"Can't you sniff him out?" Lorian asked.
"No... it's not that simple. It's a lot of smells here, too many people."
"Well this is just dandy." Lorian stood up and put his hands in his pockets. He strutted forward, "Let's go doggo."
---
Back on the other side of the tower, Atlas and Seris emerged into a wide gallery overlooking the inner courtyard, open to the red-lit sky above. Moonlight spilled in through massive arched openings, illuminating banners bearing the sigil of the Demon Chieftain, their fabric stirring in the hot wind.
Seris slowed, taking it in. "This place is… impressive."
"It's meant to be," Atlas said. "Power likes to be seen."
She leaned against the stone railing, peering down at the winding paths and platforms below. "You ever think about what happens after this?"
He stiffened slightly. "After Drakos?"
"After all of it," she clarified. "If we survive. Once the contract is fulfilled."
Atlas didn't answer right away.
"I don't plan past the next job," he finally said.
"That sounds lonely."
He shrugged. "It's efficient."
She smiled faintly. "You're allowed to want things, you know."
He looked at her then, really looked at her, the way the red light caught the edges of her white hair and the quiet determination in her eyes.
"Wanting things gets people killed," he said.
"Not always."
"Enough that it's not worth the risk."
Seris straightened, meeting his gaze evenly. "You think caring makes you weak."
"I think it makes you predictable."
She considered that. "Maybe. Or maybe it gives you something worth fighting for."
Before he could respond, a low rumble vibrated through the stone beneath their feet, subtle but unmistakable.
Atlas's hand went to his dagger. "You feel that?"
She nodded. "That wasn't us."
The rumble came again, stronger this time, followed by a distant, unmistakable sound.
A laugh.
A deep, slow, familiar laugh.
Atlas exhaled. "Found him."
Garruk sat in the center of what used to be a ceremonial dining hall, legs crossed comfortably on the cracked marble floor, surrounded by broken furniture and several unconscious demon guards. He was chewing thoughtfully on something Seris decided she didn't want to identify.
When he noticed them, his face lit up.
"Oh," he said warmly. "There you are."
Atlas stared. "Did you… redecorate?"
Garruk nodded proudly. "They walked me through here to take me to a cell. I got hungry, they got mad when I wouldn't leave the dining hall."
Seris glanced around. "Where's the exit?"
Garruk pointed with his free hand. "That way. Lots of stairs."
Atlas sighed. "Of course."
A sudden shout echoed from the far end of the hall.
"HEY!" Lorian's voice rang out. "WE FOUND HIM TOO!"
Moments later, Lorian and Ako burst in from the opposite corridor, both slightly singed, both grinning.
"Miss us?" Lorian asked.
Atlas pinched the bridge of his nose. "Every second."
Before anyone could say anything else, alarms began to sound throughout the tower, deep horns echoing through the stone.
Seris tightened her grip on her bow. "We need to move. Now."
Garruk stood, stretching, the ceiling groaning slightly as he did. "Good. I was getting bored."
Lorian cracked his neck. "So, plan?"
Atlas looked at the group, then toward the stairwell Garruk had indicated, then back at the growing sound of boots and shouting.
"The only one you guys can pull off," he said. "Run."
Ako grinned. "My favorite."
And with that, the Deathforged moved as one, charging deeper into the tower as the Demon Chieftain's forces closed in, unaware that this escape would be harder than they imagined.