They walked a path of blood and salt.

The clean up crew had their work cut out for them, though Lady Agatha's squad of alchemists hadn't ventured into the prison itself on grounds of self preservation. They suspected, rightly so, the cause of such carnage was present within the building.

The tavern master stared up at the rough hewn rock of the squat structure. Cesario informed him much of the prison was underground. The prison had the feel of a tomb. Death tangled with his senses. He tasted it on the air, heard it in the hungering silence that hovered over the whole area, the lull where heart beats once dragged, now dissipating ghosts.

"What have you brought to this world?" Mack shook his head.

He always considered the Edgewise's grasp on concepts like life and death tenuous at best. What could a tavern of limited sentience understand about the mortal condition? The Edgewise opened its door for those who needed it. It did not answer to morality. The tavern opened to villains and saints, hearts stained by wicked deeds, and souls of pure light. As long as the rules were followed, the Edgewise remained a neutral haven. That neutrality drew a certain type. Most patrons fell into a murky in-between.

However, those rules did not exist beyond the tavern's walls, and the Edgewise had used its influence to lead a monster to the back door of a vulnerable world. As if the Inquisitors and their ilk weren't bad enough for the denizens of Arden to contend with.

"The prison is rumored to have a staff of a dozen men," the enigmatic Yosepf remarked, expression concealed behind his elongated mask. "I wonder if I have enough supplies to transmute them all."

Mack shot him a speculative glance, wondering how helpful the alchemist would be in an actual fight.

"They can't all be dead," whispered Cesario. "Can they?" The Arden native was the most affected by the copious amounts of bloodshed, face pale and sweating from viewing the numerous piles of blood soaked salt. There would be no such filter in the prison.

Secretly, Mack had hoped it wouldn't come down to this, that the blasted vampire would snap out of it long before now, but it wasn't Eugene the Edgewise brought here. The Blood Prince was at the internal wheel, in all his violent glory. Mack owed it to Cesario to prepare her, and to be clear all the patrons had secrets.

"Yosepf, could you scout the surrounding ground and deter any curious passerby?" Mack waited for the man to fade into the shadows before he turned to the shivering woman in disguise. He sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "We need to talk, Lady Viola."

She froze at the name, her gaze shifting to glance at him from the corner of her eyes. "Taking the gloves off, tavern master?" Despite her apparent discomfort with the carnage, her voice was cool as she spoke.

"This is too important to keep them on," said Mack. He rolled his shoulders in a futile attempt to ease the tension between them. "How much do you know about the vampiric legion of Sanguinheim?"

If it was possible she paled further, bracing herself on prison wall. "No, stop yourself right there, sir," she vehemently shook her head. "Eugene would never hurt her."

The statement threw him. Mack blinked. He expected Cesario to deny her long time drinking buddy was capable of such carnage but her words hinted at something far worse than violence. He didn't like it at all. Mack scowled. "What are you on about?"

Cesario gave him a faint, queasy smile. "If you haven't noticed how careful he is around her, you're blind tavern master. The intensity of that stare--"

"Yeah, like a dog staring at a dripping slab of steak," Mack snapped. Cesario raised a brow. He groaned, pinching his brow. "I know you're right, I just don't like it." If he was honest with himself, he'd known since they'd plucked Cal from the table on Sanguinheim. Known from the moment the vampire urged him into the room alone. Don't let her see me like this.

The Blood Prince wouldn't have followed the pull of the Edgewise if something else wasn't already luring him here.

"Bugger," said Mack, "well, he might not hurt her, but that exception may not extend to us, my lady."

"Do not trouble yourself about the vampire, sir."

Cesario and Mack both jumped as Yosepf piped up behind them. The man made no noise whatsoever, an impressive feat considering he wore iron heel boots.

"Do you wish for me to put him down permanently," the alchemist tilted his head, the opaque lenses of mask revealing nothing. "Or temporarily?"

"Just how long were you standing there?" Cesario inquired.

"Not long," said Yosepf, "but long enough to know you are familiar with the arbitrator of this massacre. When did you plan to inform Lady Agatha of this factor?" There was a guarded note in the man's voice.

Mack shrugged. "She knows him as well. Bought him a pint last week."

The alchemist paused for a long moment before rifling through one of his pouches. "One hour should be sufficient then. Shall we enter?"

"Oh yes, let's enter the mouth of Hell," Cesario muttered.

Mack understood the sentiment. This prison was the final destination for Arden's revolutionaries, a long subversive battle Cesario waged for years. The entrance was very much like the throat of a great creature, the stone walls closing around them as soon as they set foot inside, the halls narrow to the point of absurdity. Hardly enough room for Mack and Cesario to walk side by side, let alone guards dragging prisoners. He knew the design was intentional, to give the prisoners a sensation of being swallowed alive by the prison depths. A design that proved a fatal flaw as they stumbled upon the remains of the prison guards.

"God," Cesario whispered, pivoting away to press her face against the wall. Yosepf withdrew several vials from his pelt of pouches, preparing to salt the bodies when Mack held up a hand.

"Wait," he said, crouching beside one of the bodies. This one was further away from the others, fresher. Likely the poor schmuck was the last to die. Mack frowned, studying the man's crushed throat. There was something about the killing blow that seemed clumsy, unintentional. The hairs rose on the back of his neck. "Salt them. Fast as you can."

Cesario glanced at him. "What is it?"

Mack's expression was grim. "We need to find Cal before he does."

The floor quivered beneath their feet. A sound like muffled cannon blast rose up through dirt and rock.

Yosepf jerked around, looking for the source of the noise. "What was that?"

"Probably my tavern wench and apprentice," said Mack.

The alchemist worked faster but in the few precious minutes it took him to dispose of the corpses, more chaos was set in motion. The floor began to tremble, the shaking increasing exponentially in a matter of seconds.

"Definitely Calponia," said Cesario, fighting to keep her balance as the ground bucked beneath their feet.

"This doesn't bode well," said Mack, holding out a hand to aid the lady in drag. "Come on, we better--"

His words were cut off as the ground gave way.

Calponia watched the tumbling, smashing rocks, trying to discern a pattern, a rhythm, something she could time. If she could figure out the longest gap, there was a chance they could jump through. It certainly worked in the movies...

Sweat trickled down her back. What the heck was she thinking? Not that they had many other options.

"We can't stay here," yelped Ariel, breaking her concentration. Hard enough to manage with the whole damn building shaking like it was going to come down around their ears any second. It was probably poor manners to strangle someone you just rescued, but the pale man seemed determined to fray every last nerve she possessed.

"I know that," said Calponia through her teeth, glancing over her shoulder at the trio of siblings. Ariel was on his own two feet again, but leaning heavily on Caliban, while Miranda remained unconscious under his other arm. A small blessing, that; at least she didn't have to contend with three ornery siblings who scoffed at her rescue attempts. The water climbing the incline behind them reminded her how dire their situation was.

Try not to die. The hooded figure's words taunted her. If she was so important to his schemes, why leave her in mortal danger? Not to mention, her chest was still numb where he slammed his hand on her. What the hell was that about? It was something she would have to address later if she survived this. She had to survive this.

She clapped her hands, dropping into a loose stance as she watched the revolving opening of the maze. "Alright, we just need to find the pattern."

"Dim-witt, move!" Ariel snarled. The man's fingers sparked.

"Ariel wait," Caliban yelped, but with a surprisingly turn of strength, the pale blond shoved his brother and sister forward. Calponia watched wide eyed as the they phased through the churning stones, taking her pilfered torch with them.

She lost sight of them once they shot through, but heard Caliban's muffled shout a moment later. Incredulous, Calponia turned to Ariel, and found the man collapsed on the ground. She felt another urge to strangle him, though the sentiments had shifted. She knelt beside him and turned him onto his back.

He winced, flinching away from her. "Don't touch me, cursed one," he rasped.

If Calponia had a nickle for every time someone got all wigged out about her tendency to induce chaos wherever she went, she might have been able to pay her rent on time. And that was before she knew the bête noire existed. She had yet to feel comfortable in her own skin but she'd be damned if she let this idiot get under it. Dammit, she managed to get this far, and saved his ass to boot. Ready to rail at him, she caught his darting gaze, and the fear she saw made her bite back the angry retort.

"Now who's the dim-witt," she huffed. She ignored his feeble protests, hoisting him up with an arm around his waist. Slight as he was, he was still a head taller than her and leaned heavily on her despite his apparent dislike of her. Caliban had some beastly strength in him to carry both siblings as if they weighed nothing at all. She could hear the other brother in intervals through the shifting stones, yelling incoherently at them.

"I don't suppose you can do that trick again?" Calponia kept her tone light, since she already knew the answer as she looked up at her charge. This close it was impossible to miss the pale man's baleful expression.

"That trick," he sneered, "was the last of my magic." His attitude gave way as he coughed, a fine trickle of blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. For a moment, the cavalier expression slipped from his face, revealing all the fear and pain beneath. "Least they have a chance now."

"Yeah, Captain High 'n Mighty," said Calponia, "though I doubt they'll take you up on it." He glared at her. Caliban did not strike her as the sort to leave any of his siblings behind. The ceiling above them rained dust, creaking ominously. She'd bet money it was ready to collapse on them any moment.

"Looks like it's down to plan b," she said, eyeing the shifting stones. Was it her imagination, or were they moving slower?

Ariel sputtered next to her. "Are you mad?"

They were. The mechanisms must be too clogged to function. She counted.

"You are mad! I'd rather drown that end my life as a bloody pulp." Ariel yelped as she tightened her arm. "Don't you dare--"

"Now!"

Calponia knew the moment her foot left the ground it was going to go wrong. Her heart rose up in her throat as she tumbled forward. She pivoted Ariel over her hip, sending him through first and safe, before her leg caught the edge of a shifting stone. Calponia felt the tingle through her limbs, aware of the bête noire writhing inside her like never before. She landed hard on her back, her head smacking down on the crevice of the doorway. Stone descended toward her face, eclipsing her world. So much for staying alive...

A dark brawny arm grabbed her collar and hauled her up.

The stone clapped on the back of her wig, the one part of her disguise that remained intact, ripping it free of her head with a painful pull of pins and tufts of her real hair. Her curls flopped in her eyes as Caliban caught her against his chest. She was somewhat comforted to find his heartbeat was as frantic as her own.

"You are the worst rescuer I've ever seen," he muttered as he gently set her on her feet.

"Or the greatest," said a soft, sullen voice. Calponia met Ariel's gaze. The man's mouth worked but he couldn't seem to find the words.

That was fine with her. They didn't have time for half-assed apologetic sentiments. Not when she could feel water seeping through the soles of her shoes.

"We need to keep moving," she said, though the sounds of the maze were oddly muted on this side of the shifting stones.

"Yeah, about that," said Caliban, hoisting his unconscious sister under one arm while he wielded the sputtering torch at an enormous mound of dirt filling up most of the space. The ceiling had indeed collapsed, stalling the mazed and sealing them in.

"Crap," said Calponia, trying to quell her rising panic, when she saw something odd in the flickering torchlight. "What is that?" Despite her better judgement, she reached over and tugged.

It was a boot. A wiggling boot.

"There's people in there!" She surged forward, wrapping her hands higher around a slim ankle and letting her body naturally fall backward. Gravity helped her pull a gasping, filthy woman in drag free from the pile.

"Cesario!" Calponia rolled her over and supported her friend as she coughed and hacked up dirt.

"O-others-" Cesario rasped, but Caliban was already moving. He thrust the torch in the ground, carefully handing off his sister to Ariel. He shoved his massive arms into the dirt. He spent a good moment fishing before he grunted and hauled two other struggling figures free.

"Who's this lot then?" Caliban frowned down at them; a man in a strange bird-like mask shoved up over his mouth as he gasped for air, and Mack, unrecognizable under his coat of dirt. Calponia felt a tension in her chest release at the sight of him coughing on the ground. He was alive. They were alive. Her lip trembled.

"The rest of the rescue party," she said, unable to stop a small sniffle of relief.

"Of course they are," said Ariel, disgusted.

Mack braced himself, kneeling on the ground. "Enough sass from you, Master Ariel."

If possible, the pale man lost more color. "Way keeper?"

Caliban grinned, slapping a board hand across Mack's shoulders that nearly knocked him off balance once more. "Way keeper! Father sent you? Your timing leaves much to be desired."

"Nonsense, my apprentice managed just fine on her own," said Mack.

Both siblings stopped and turned to blink at her. Calponia gave a small wave. "Yo."

Ariel recovered first. "We're still trapped down here," he groused, determined to be his usual charming self. "And our sister is unconscious."

"Miranda," Cesario murmured, crawling over to the battered guard.

Calponia crouched beside Mack. "The water is coming in. Can you get us out of here?"

Mack scowled up at her as if she uttered the dumbest question imaginable. "Did I not just acknowledge you as my apprentice. Buck up, girlie girl, you can do this."

She could do this? A helpless giggle slipped free. She ignored Ariel's patronizing stare. "What exactly can I do?"

"Draw a damn door." His tone was short but there was a glow of warmth, amusement, and pure blazing belief in his eyes. Calponia hiccuped.

"Yes sir." She grabbed a stone shard, ignoring her shaking knees as she went to the only wall free of debris. The door was crooked and clumsy but passable. The Edgewise wouldn't care. She took a breath and knocked three times.

Nothing happened.

She frowned, swallowing hard as she knocked again.

Nothing. She felt cold, so cold inside. The cold throbbed like a burn in her chest. On her chest...

"Mack," Calponia whispered.

She turned to find him staring at her, something akin to horror in his expression.

"What--" Her question was cut off as the stone cracked. She jumped, flinching back. The crack wasn't along her drawn door, but along an hidden seam. The entire wall trembled, unseen gears crunching as something bodily forced the walls apart.

"Cal!" Mack's shout was muffled by the deafening grind of stone. The wall shot aside with a boom.

A man stood in the opening, bracing the stones. His shoulders heaved as he looked up at her with crimson eyes. Calponia's heart turned over in her chest. With a delighted squeal, she threw her arms around Eugene.