The warrior barked a laugh, the sound echoing like thunder through the vaulted chamber. "WOW!! she doesn't know! Next she'll tell us she was just passing through and stumbled into this forest by accident. Happens all the time."
"Wait, wait....did she say she doesn't know what this place is?" the mage said, her voice dripping with incredulity, eyes rolling skyward as if appealing to unseen gods. "Should we explain the ancient death dungeon slowly, or would pictures help?"
"This is ridiculous," the rogue growled, stepping forward with that signature feral grin of his, the kind that promised mayhem and probably a bit of blood. In one fluid motion, his twin daggers hissed free of their sheaths. "I say we knock some clarity into her."
"I dare you," Elowen snapped, her voice a blade in its own right. Her sword came up, gleaming in the strange, pulsing light that filled the chamber. The metal looked hungry. "I've fought monsters to get here. You think you scare me?"
"She's spicy," the bard muttered from her perch atop a chunk of collapsed masonry, plucking idly at her lute with a smirk. "That'll end well."
Then it all exploded.
The rogue came at her like a shadow made flesh, feet silent on the stone, daggers slashing in a cross pattern aimed at her throat and gut. Elowen moved on instinct, steel ringing as she barely blocked the first strike, then twisted her blade to deflect the second. Sparks lit the air between them like fireflies, steel grinding against steel. He was quick....too quick....and each movement from him came with the uncanny grace of someone who had long ago learned to kill without wasting a single ounce of energy.
She managed a breath before the knight charged in behind him like a battering ram in full plate, sword cleaving the air with a growl of displaced wind. She dropped to her knees and rolled beneath his swing, the blade passing inches above her head and slamming into the ground with a boom that sent cracks spiderwebbing through the stone. She came up into a spinning arc, her sword slicing across the knight's armored pauldron. Metal screamed as it tore, and he staggered sideways with a grunt, more stunned than injured.
But there was no time to celebrate. The air behind her shimmered, then ignited.
The sorceress stood with arms raised, eyes glowing with arcane fire. Her voice split the air as she finished her chant, hands releasing a swirling mass of flame that roared toward Elowen like a summoned inferno. Elowen dove, heart hammering, throwing herself behind a fractured column just as the fireball struck. The blast hit like a god's fist, heat scalding her back, flames licking at the edges of her cloak. The stone cracked and hissed, smoke pouring into the room like an angry spirit. Coughing, Elowen rose to one knee, eyes stinging, ears ringing.
Before she could fully orient herself, a sharp hiss sliced through the air, a warning. She ducked, and an arrow from the ranger zipped past her cheek, close enough to draw blood. That was it. She'd had enough of this circus.
With a furious shout, she sprang from cover, sword low, and slammed into the rogue mid-step. Her blade cut into the muscle of his thigh, dark blood spilling out as he let out a choked cry. He twisted fast, catching her across the forearm with one of his daggers. Pain flared like lightning up her arm, hot and blinding, but she didn't stop. Her blade came back in a furious riposte, driving him backward even as blood streamed from her hand.
Across the room, the bard remained seated, playing a haunting melody that clashed terribly with the chaos around her. The sorceress's teeth clenched in fury, turned a blood-smeared glare in her direction. "Are you going to help?"
"I am helping," the bard replied coolly, not missing a note. "Mood is everything."
A roar of rage drew Elowen's attention back to the knight, who now surged forward again, shield raised and sword high. She barely had time to bring up her own weapon before he was on her, their blades colliding with a crash that sent tremors through her entire body. She stumbled, pain lancing through her legs, but stood her ground. With a desperate twist, she slammed the pommel of her sword into the side of his head. His helmet rang like a struck bell, and he dropped like a felled tree, groaning.
The mage stepped forward now, staff raised, her expression wild. Runes along the shaft glowed ominously, but as she cast her spell, a sickly spark sputtered at the tip. The magic backfired with a shriek, and the energy recoiled in a chaotic arc, slamming into the ranger. He yelped, thrown sideways into the wall hard enough to leave a dent.
"Damn it!" the mage swore, clutching her head. "My spell rebounded! Who enchanted this hellhole?!"
Across the room, the warrior who had first mocked her now snarled like a caged animal. "Are we seriously losing to her?" he roared, face contorted with fury. Then he charged.
Elowen didn't move. She braced herself, feet firm, pain burning in every limb. As he bore down on her, massive sword overhead, she twisted at the last second, redirecting the blow, and brought her own sword around in a brutal arc that ended with the hilt slamming into his temple. He dropped, unconscious before he hit the ground.
Silence fell.
Not the peace of victory, but the thick, uncertain stillness of people who didn't quite know what had just happened. Four lay on the ground, groaning, bleeding, stunned. Smoke curled upward in lazy spirals. The chamber, once echoing with violence, now only echoed with ragged breaths and the quiet, rhythmic drip of blood pooling on ancient stone.
Elowen stood in the center of it all, one arm limp and slick with red, legs trembling from exhaustion. She swayed, glaring at the survivors, trying to make sense of anything. "I...what is going on?" she demanded, her voice hoarse. "Who is Rosa? Why do you think she sent me? I just came here to find the keys!"
The sorceress, sitting up and wiping blood from her mouth with the back of a shaky hand, spat onto the floor. "You expect us to believe that? Rosabella's the only one twisted enough to throw a clueless little girl into this mess and call it strategy."
Elowen looked between them, eyes wide, chest heaving. "I don't know anyone named Rosabella. I don't know any of you!"
The bard finally stood, tucking her lute under her arm and raising an eyebrow as she slowly retuned one of the strings. "Well. That's awkward."
"Awkward?" the rogue muttered, grimacing as he pressed a cloth to his wounded leg. "She nearly killed me."
"And you tried to kill her first," the mage snapped, dragging herself upright with a grunt. "Typical."
The knight groaned and rolled over, clutching his head. "Can we not just ask her some damn questions before stabbing next time?"
Elowen dropped to one knee, clutching her bleeding arm, warm blood seeping between her fingers. Her chest heaved with every breath, lungs burning, vision swimming. Dirt and leaves clung to her skin, sweat mingling with blood as she forced the words out between gasps. "I swear... I'm just trying to get out... out of this damn forest. That's it."
Silence followed, thick and heavy, pressing down like fog. The trees around them stood still, as if listening.
Then finally, the bard broke it, her voice softer now, but edged with caution, like someone holding a blade behind their back.
"You said something about keys...." She stepped a little closer, eyes narrowing. "You might want to start explaining that, girl. Because if you're telling the truth…" Her gaze flicked toward the others. "Then we'll decide what to do with you."