Jack stepped out of the Adventurers Guild’s training area, fatigue tugging at his limbs, but in good spirits. No one had made disparaging remarks about how grotesque his face looked or how it was spoiling their meal!

  He was having a good day. Smiling, he planned the rest of his day. Head home, have a bath, get something to eat, his stomach rumbled at the thought. Then spend a few hours crafting scrolls. He needed more coin to buy armour.

  As he passed beneath the Guild’s stone archway, he spotted a towering swordsman bearing a greatsword, sheathed on his back at a slight angle. The seven-foot-long weapon protruded a couple of feet above his head. The swordsman was heading for the Adventurers Guild.

  “Fuck,” Jack muttered, his steps faltering. He felt [Shadow Veil] drawing him towards the safety of the shadows.

  This was the leader of the adventurer party who had searched for him through the forest only yesterday. Beside the swordsman walked their healer, Linda, deep in conversation.

  “We need a job,” the swordsman rumbled. “A few goblins a week ain’t even enough for ale.”

  Linda nodded. “When that idiot Kyle turns up, we should do another dungeon raid. Do you think we’re ready for the second floor?”

  A couple of paces behind them, another young woman followed with a slight limp. It was Sam, the woman who was injured by the goblin that Jack killed.

  Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Jack thought as they approached. [Shadow Veil] was still pulling him towards the shadows not five feet away. He considered turning back into the Guild, but that might draw their attention. I was covered in blood and dirt… they can’t recognise me. Can they? He gripped his dagger handle and started to consider options. Run, fight or scream for help.

  It was now too late to turn around. The large swordsman and healer swept past him without a glance, their discussion focused on work prospects.

  Jack breathed a sigh of relief. Thank the Gods they didn’t notice me.

  Sam cast him a fleeting glance as she limped by… and a second look, and a… smile.

  Jack stiffened and stared ahead, determined not to meet her gaze. He concentrated on a nearby brass fountain over a small pond. A handful of ducks floated on its surface. A young boy with his mom was throwing bread to the ducks. An old couple sat hand in hand on a bench nearby. A delivery drone, about the size of a cat, flitted by leaving a thin stream of spent aether-steam in its wake.

  Jack and Sam passed.

  He picked up the pace. That was too fucking close. He felt [Assassin’s Intuition] ping; someone was watching him. Shit!

  “Hey, you two,” Sam called.

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  There was no response.

  Jack quickened his footsteps.

  “Stop, you idiots,” she called again. “Ain’t that the kid Kyle chased?”

  Damn! Jack kept walking, scanning the area for the best place to start running. Should I run now?

  “What?” the swordsman barked.

  The taste of metallic saliva coated Jack’s tongue as adrenaline coursed through his body. Should I run?

  “Him there.” There was a short pause before Sam added, “Yeah, him. See the white bow?”

  More pings from [Assassin’s Intuition]. Fuck! The bow! Jack headed towards an alleyway where he’d be out of sight and could run.

  “Hey! You!” the swordsman roared.

  Jack kept walking. A few more seconds. Shit!

  “You… with the white bow. Come here,” the swordsman called, his voice drawing nearer.

  Jack swung into the narrow alleyway and bolted like a rabbit. A dozen paces and a quick left turn, two dozen more paces, and he skidded to a halt. Fuck, it’s a dead end! Before him loomed a twelve-foot-plus sandstone wall, smooth and unscalable, its summit crowned with broken glass. At its base sat a row of industrial-sized bins. To his left, a tall sandstone building with barred windows; to his right, another building with shuttered windows and a solitary door.

  Could I scale the wall? I could use the bins… Jack clenched his fists. No way past the glass shards. He dashed to the door as the swordsman rounded the corner.

  “It is you!” the swordsman said, drawing his enormous blade.

  Jack gave him a single glance and tried the door. “Please be unlocked,” he muttered under his breath.

  “There’s no escape, kid,” the swordsman growled. “Where’s Ky…”

  Jack yanked the door open and darted into a short, well?lit hallway. “Thank the Gods,” he murmured, slamming the door shut while scanning for a lock. “Shit… rune-encoded.” Without the key, he couldn’t secure it.

  He searched the passageway for something to bar the door with. Fuck! There was nothing usable in the ten-foot corridor; it was almost empty. On the walls were a few notice boards and an aether-powered employee time punch device, used for clocking in and out of work. At the end of the short corridor was a single door.

  Jack rifled through his pack. “Fuck! Where is it… where is it… got it.” He squinted at the heading on one of the notice boards. ‘Ron’s Diner Work Schedule’. He tried the other door. Fuck! Locked. He gave it a hard pull, hoping it would open. It didn’t budge.

  The door he’d entered through swung open and [Assassin’s Intuition] triggered.

  He glanced at the employee time punch device to the side of the door. He considered using one of the workers’ punch cards to unlock the door, but knew he’d need one of their passcodes.

  The swordsman’s shadow spilt over the doorway. “Gotcha,” he snarled, holding the door open with his free hand. “Where the hell’s Kyle?”

  Jack let his pack drop, maintaining a hand on his dagger and said, “Who the hell’s Kyle, and what the fuck do you think you’re doing entering my diner?” His pulse thundered in his temples. “Do I need to call the guards?”

  The swordsman frowned while looking into the hallway. He didn’t enter.

  “Well?” Jack repeated, taking a half-step forward. “Who are you and what are you doing in my diner? Get out!” He squared his shoulders, attempting to look confident, like he owned the place. Shit! Shit! Shit! He was trapped. He looked at the greatsword the swordsman was holding. It was taller than the door!

  “Do you take me for a fool, kid?” The swordsman grinned. “This is Ron’s. And you ain’t no Ron.” He chuckled.

  One of the women called something from the alleyway.

  Jack’s chest tightened. Damn it!

  The swordsman looked back up the alleyway. “I got him trapped,” he called. Looking back at Jack, he shouted again, “Where the fuck’s Kyle?!” He took a step into the doorway, blocking Jack’s exit. His only escape. “Last chance, boy.” He raised the blade to the ceiling.

  Gripping the damaged handle of his dagger. “Never again,” Jack whispered. For my family.

  The art of runesmithing died long ago. Once legendary runeswords have been reduced to mere decorations, their powers made irrelevant by the discovery of ethereal spirits. Techniques were forgotten, and any remaining runesmiths were ridiculed and shunned.

  Vivian is one such runesmith. Born as an orphan and adopted into a smithy, she and her adoptive grandpa persist with a dream. They wish to prove that runeswords are once again worthy of fighting monsters in the lands below.

  What Vivian never expected was for herself to be the one fighting. Alone in the underground with a crazed spirit that seeks to profit and grow from every monster in their wake. Below the earth awaits a subterranean labyrinth of monsters and demons, where ethereal storms ensure nothing stays dead for long…