The horde closed in, a ring of death tightening around the cornered pair. Hanry, bleeding and trembling, raised his sword in a final, defiant gesture. Miriel clutched her book, a useless shield.
Just as the monsters lunged…
CRASH!
The stone wall behind them shattered outward. Dust and debris flew momentarily blinding the monsters.
"HEY! OVER HERE!" a feminine voice shouted urgently from the newly made hole.
Hanry and Miriel whipped around, stunned by the sudden intervention. In the jagged opening stood a woman, her face partially obscured by the gloom, waving frantically.
"Come on! Move it!" she yelled, her voice hoarse with urgency. "Unless you wanna be a snack for those ugly guys!"
Hanry hesitated, suspicion warring against desperation. "Who are you?" he demanded.
The woman scoffed. "Seriously? Now? Fine! Stay if you want!" She turned to retreat into the hole.
"Hanry! We have no choice!" Miriel gasped, pulling at his arm. A Deathweaver Spider scuttled closer, its mandibles clicking ominously.
Hanry made a split-second decision. "Go! Now!" He shoved Miriel towards the hole first, then scrambled after her, kicking a goblin in the face when it tried to follow.
They tumbled through the breach into a narrow, sloping tunnel. The strange woman was already ahead, sliding down the steep incline on her back.
"Move faster!" she yelled back. "The tunnel is collapsing behind us!"
True to her word, the passageway groaned and rumbled. Stones and dirt rained down while they slid.
Miriel screamed, a high-pitched sound of terror and disorientation echoing in the cramped space. Hanry tried to protect her with his body, their descent chaotic and bruising.
The tunnel leveled out abruptly, sending them tumbling into a small, dimly lit stone room. Miriel rolled several times, her book flying from her grasp. Hanry crashed heavily against the far wall, groaning in pain.
Dust choked the air. Coughing, Miriel scrambled to the man's side.
"Hanry! Hanry, are you hurt?" Her hands fluttered over him to check the wounds.
He groaned, trying to sit up. "I… I'm alive," he gasped. "… you?"
"Bruised, but whole," she said, relief washing over her. She looked at the gashes on his arms and legs, some still bleeding sluggishly. "Don't move. Let me see…"
She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. A faint golden light, weaker than usual, pulsed from her fingertips. She gently touched his worst wound – a deep cut on his forearm.
The light flared briefly made the bleeding slowed, the edges of the wound knitting together gently. Miriel's brow furrowed in concentration, but her hands trembled with fatigue.
"I… I can only do a little," she whispered, her voice quaking by exhaustion and regret. "My mana is so low… I haven't had time to recover…"
Tears welled in her eyes. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry, Hanry…"
He reached up, his hand surprisingly gentle, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Shhh… It's enough. You've done… more than enough." His voice was hoarse but tender. "You're alive. That's what matters."
The golden light faded. Miriel slumped slightly, her strength spent. She rested her forehead against his shoulder, her breath hitching with silent sobs.
"Well, well," came the dry voice of their rescuer. "Looks like I pulled you out of the frying pan… and dropped you straight into the fire."
Hanry and Miriel looked up. The woman stood silhouetted in the doorway, arms crossed, watching them with an unreadable expression.
"Welcome to my home, kids," she said, her voice full of sardonic amusement. "Hope you like it hot."
Hanry and Miriel finally tore their gaze away from each other. Taking in the surroundings, their relief curdled into horror.
The room was a charnel house. The air hung thick with the coppery scent of blood and the acrid tang of decay. Mangled carcasses of monsters lay strewn about – slimes reduced to oozing puddles, goblins dismembered and piled in a corner, the shattered remains of a Deathweaver Spider. Blood painted the walls in dark, splattered patterns.
Hanry tensed, pushing himself up despite his wounds and placing himself in front of Miriel. His sword was gone, lost in the slide so he balled his hands into fists, eyes scanning at the stranger.
The woman leaned casually against the doorframe, seemingly unperturbed by the carnage. She was stunning – a vision of monochrome allure. Black eyes watched them intently. Her hair, a cascade of pure white, spilled over her shoulders. Her skin was unnervingly pale, flawless like porcelain. Her body was voluptuous, accentuated by the outrageous bodysuit she wore.
The outfit was tight, glossy black material clung to her every curve, emphasizing her enormous, uplifted breasts and deep cleavage.
Her midriff was completely bare, showcasing a taut stomach and narrow waist.
Below, the suit was cut in a high, thong style, revealing her pronounced hip bones and a tantalizing glimpse of her pelvis. Semi-transparent stockings encased her long legs, held up by decorative garters.
She wore detached sleeves that left her shoulders bare, and a dramatic, split cape flowed down her back. A thin choker and hooded headpiece completed the look, framing her face.
"Tense, are we?" she asked, her voice a low, husky purr. A faint, psychotic smile played on her lips as she observed Hanry's defensive posture.
"Who… who are you?" Miriel stammered, clutching her book like a shield.
The woman pushed off the doorframe and strolled towards them, her black high heels clicking sharply on the stone floor. She stepped over a goblin corpse without a glance.
"Names… they're such temporary things down here, don't you think?" She circled them like a predator assessing prey.
"Evelyn," she finally offered with a dismissive wave. "And you…" Her eyes locked onto Miriel, roaming over her disheveled state at unsettling intensity. "… you must be the little Saintess everyone's hunting for. Quite the prize, I hear."
Miriel flushed, shrinking back slightly.
"Stay away from her," Hanry growled. "You've done… something… helping us. We're grateful. But… who are you? What do you want?"
Evelyn chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down Hanry's spine despite the heat of the room. "What do I want?" She stopped directly in front of them, her height amplified by her heels. She towered over Miriel, forcing Hanry to look up slightly.
"Oh," she drawled, leaning in close, her breath hot on his face. He could smell blood and something darker, spicier.
"I want… everything. But for now, I want to see how the precious little Saintess and her loyal puppy dog fare in the belly of the beast."
Hanry stared at the potions he had been given, then glared at Evelyn's retreating back. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he demanded, frustration and suspicion warring in his voice. "Hey! Get back here and explain!"
Evelyn paused at the doorway. She turned, that unsettling, psychotic smile back on her lips. "Explain?" she echoed, tilting her head. "Why, I just saved your pitiful lives, dog. Is that not enough? You want entertainment too?"
Her smile widened, becoming almost grotesque. "Perhaps a song? Or… perhaps… something else?" Her eyes flicked to Miriel, who shrank back. "Use the potions. You'll need them. The fun is just beginning."
With that, she turned and strode out, her cape swirling dramatically behind her. The heavy wooden door slammed shut with a resounding BOOM, leaving them in the grim room.
Hanry stared after the the mysterious woman, jaw clenched, then looked down at the potions. He uncorked the green one and drank it quickly, grimacing at the bitter taste. Almost immediately, warmth spread through his body. The bleeding stopped, and his deepest gashes closed over, leaving faint, puckered scars. He still felt weak, but the agonizing pain eased, a sigh of relief escaped his mouth.
He passed the blue potion to Miriel. "Here. You need this more than I do."
Miriel took it, her hands trembling. Her eyes were wide, fear and exhaustion dwelling inside. "H-Hanry… that woman… she's… terrifying."
She uncorked the potion and drank. A faint blue glow emanated from her skin briefly then faded. Color returned to her cheeks slightly. "But… she saved us… right?"
"Did she?" Hanry muttered, running a hand through his tangled hair. "Or did she just trade one predator for another? That woman is… somehow unhinged."
He looked at Miriel, his expression softening slightly. "But let's leave that back for now. How do you feel?"
Miriel took a deep breath. The potion had replenished some of her mana, enough for basic healing, but she still felt drained. "Better," she managed.
"Enough to… to help more." She knelt beside Hanry, placing her hands gently on his forearm. Golden light, stronger now, flowed from her fingertips. The scar faded, leaving smooth, unblemished skin. "See?"
Hanry watched her work, his expression unreadable. "Saintess… Miriel…"
"Yes?" She glanced up at him, her eyes meeting his.
He looked away quickly, a faint blush creeping up his neck.
"Thank you." He cleared his throat. "For… for everything. For saving me back there. For healing me now."
Miriel's own blush deepened. "It's my duty," she stammered. "As the Saintess…" She focused back on his arm, the golden light flickering. "And… as your friend."
Hanry shifted uncomfortably.
"Friend," he echoed, almost like he was testing the word. "Right." Silence hung between them, thick with unspoken tension and the lingering stench of death.