Gin leaned his weight against the stone and it made a noise. Slowly, the slab gave way, opening just enough for them to pass through one by one.
Juno blinked. "So this is it?"
He nodded.
Ain stepped in behind them and immediately wrinkled his nose. "Wow, it smells like wet socks left in a demon's boot, or wait–" He sniffed theatrically. "Oh, my bad. Might just be you, Juno."
She frowned, not even bothering to respond to the cat. She went in behind him, her heart beating fast due to the situation, one hand clutching the vial on her strap.
The air became heavier, filled with the musty smell of damp and something metallic, reminiscent of dried blood. There could even be corpses. The stone walls seemed damp and rusted iron bars were set into the walls on both sides of the hallway. There were rows upon rows of cells, some empty and some occupied, barely visible except for a nearby torch hanging on the wall.
She felt something moving inside one of them and jumped.
"Yves?" she whispered.
There was no response, only silence.
"We don't know which one he's in," she murmured, more to herself than to the others. "If he's even still here."
Gin spoke in a low voice behind her. "Stay alert, try not to make sudden noises."
Ain's soft steps clicked beside her, tail flicking irritably as something wet squelched under his paw. His nose wrinkled. "Ugh. I'm gonna need you to give me a bath when we get back."
Juno didn't even glance at him. "I'm not bathing you."
Ain blinked up at her, mock-wounded. "What? You'd leave a helpless little cat all gross and soggy like this? That's abuse."
"You're not helpless."
"I have paws, Juno. Paws. No opposable thumbs. How am I supposed to hold a loofah?" He gave a long, dramatic groan.
They moved slowly down the row. Some cells held skeletons, or piles of rotting cloth and matted hair. Others had deep scratches carved into the walls, or names etched in what looked like blood.
She spotted a rusted sconce on the wall and tugged the torch free, the weak flame flickering in her grip. She moved ahead of the others, raising the torch and peering inside each cell.
"Yves?" she raised her voice a little this time. "Yves, are you here?"
For a moment nothing happened, but then something sounded.
Something scraping the floor, followed by a low moan.
Juno froze, the torchlight flickering in her hand. She turned slowly toward the noise and saw a gnarled hand curl around the bars of the third cell. The skin was gray, peeling, and the nails were long and cracked.
"Girl…" a voice wheezed. "Let me out…"
She stepped back instinctively, bumping into Gin's chest. He was right behind her, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
"Don't," he said softly. "That's not him."
The thing in the cell shifted again, dragging itself closer to the light.
Its face was sunken, stretched thin by decomposition. But its eyes, there was still something human in them.
"Please," it croaked, "I didn't mean to,I wasn't supposed to be here. I was just…"
Suddenly its mouth split unnaturally wide.
"I'm so hungry…"
Gin didn't move from behind her. His calm presence anchored her, even as the darkness threatened to fray her edges.
A second, softer voice joined from the next cell. It was a woman, thin as bone. "Help us. Please. I haven't seen the sun in… I don't know how long."
Juno took another step back. "I– I'm looking for someone else. I'm sorry."
"You're not sorry!" another voice snarled. This one sounded feral. From the shadows, the sound of claws scraping against iron could be heard. "You'll leave us here. Like all the others. Just another coward!"
More voices emerged, echoing through the corridor like a cursed chorus. The deeper they went, the worse it got.
She brought the torch closer to another cell and instantly regretted it. Dozens of faces pressed against the metal; some were barely human anymore.
One prisoner smiled at her, revealing a mouth full of broken teeth and gums draining pus. The smell hit her hard; it was nauseating, like meat left to rot.
Her stomach churned violently; she swallowed hard as bile rose in her throat and her eyes watered from the disgusting smell. She couldn't let any more of that stench in. One wrong breath and she would collapse right there.
Gin grabbed her by the shoulders again.
"Juno," he said quietly. "Keep moving."
She looked up at him and nodded.
Her legs obeyed, barely. They kept walking and the voices never stopped.
"Why don't you help us?" a voice whispered behind her, painfully soft. "You're not like them. You still care. I see it in your eyes."
An attempt was made to ignore it, that feeling of guilt and confusion, the overwhelming need to do something, but she knew that it couldn't be done.
Heavy footsteps echoed from somewhere ahead, making the ground tremble. Metal scraped against stone, dragging closer.
The prisoners went quiet, all at once. Juno froze. "Why did they–"
"Juno."Gin's voice became sharp out of nowhere. "Get back."
She turned around, confused. And then she saw it.
It barely looked human, its flesh grey-purple, hanging in loose folds, like a corpse left too long in water. Its eyes were two black pits, and it wore the torn armour of a guard across its sunken frame. A large number of keys jangled on its belt, encrusted with rust and dirt.
The jailer.
Its mouth opened, revealing a wide, loose jaw that stretched too far, and a thick, gurgling growl echoed down the corridor.
Juno froze.
The creature advanced heavily, dragging an iron mace that had fused with its skin.
And then it swung it.
The movement was slow, but powerful enough to crack the stone. Juno felt rooted to the spot, the air too thick to move...
Gin shoved her back hard and stepped into the jailer's path.
CRACK.
The mace came down at them, but Gin caught it with both hands on his blade, angling the katana to deflect rather than absorb the full impact.
The force still drove him back, but he stayed upright. The jailer swung again, and Gin redirected it, twisting his hips and letting the mace slide past his shoulder.
But his injured arm faltered. He felt the wound pull, the stitches straining beneath the bandage. That marm blood seep through the fabric. Not enough to worry about yet, but enough to weaken his grip.
The jailer pressed forward, and Gin sidestepped, but not fast enough. The weapon clipped his ribs, sending him stumbling sideways into the wall. His hand pressed against his side for half a second before he straightened, sword still raised.
Even wounded, even outmatched by size and strength, he moved like someone who'd been doing this his whole life. Reading the opponent, adjusting.
Behind them, Ain hissed, ears flat. "What the hell did you wake up?!"
Her hand clutched the torch, but her feet felt glued to the ground. The jailer's roar echoed through the corridor, and all she could think was: I can't do this. I'm not strong enough.
Then Gin grunted and she saw the way his injured arm hung weaker than it should, the bandage already darkening with blood. That wound was her fault. He'd blocked her strike during training. He'd gotten hurt protecting her, and now he was fighting one-armed because of it.
She watched him take another blow, his movements slower than they should be. He was handicapped. The shame burned hotter than the fear.
She'd spent her whole life being the weak one, the burden. And here she was, doing it again, standing there uselessly while someone else fought for her. While someone else bled because she couldn't handle herself.
Ain's voice cut through her thoughts. "You just gonna stand there, or you planning to actually do something?"
She flinched, turning to see the cat watching her with those violet eyes.
"He's fighting with one arm because of you," Ain continued. "And you're just... watching. That's cold, even for a human."
Her chest tightened. "I don't–"
"You do." Ain grinned. "You always do. It's easier, isn't it? Let someone else take the hits. Let someone else bleed for your mistakes."
She looked back at Gin. Saw the blood seeping through his bandage, at the way he couldn't raise his left arm properly. Saw him struggling because she'd been careless.
The jailer's keys jangled with each movement, hanging from its belt. They hung just below an old leather belt, inches from where Gin's blade met the creature's mace.
If she could get them, they could find Yves and get out. Gin wouldn't have to keep fighting injured.
She could do this one thing. She moved before she could talk herself out of it. Between breaths, dagger in hand but unused, she lunged forward as the jailer raised its arm.
Gin shouted something, her name maybe, telling her to stay back, but she was already there, shoulder brushing the wall as she slid past and grabbed the keyring.
Her chest tightened immediately. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the jailer stopped. Its head turned slowly toward her, its neck creaking. And its black eyes fixed directly on her.
It screamed, shaking the walls and made the prisoners shrink back in their cells. It wanted the keys back.
Gin was already between them again, raising his sword to deflect the next blow.
"You alright?!" Gin's voice was frantic, and she saw him look over his shoulder for just a second.
Juno quickly sat up, raising the keys. "I got them!"
Gin said nothing at first, panting raggedly as he deflected another blow, his wounded arm trembling from the effort. The demon's mace collided with Gin's sword again, making a horrible sound.
"Then go," Gin spat, his voice tense with effort. "Find Yves and get out of here, now."
He took a step forward and slashed, giving her room to move.
Juno was already running, keys clutched against her chest, torch in her other hand. She scanned cell after cell, looking for blond hair, blue eyes, anything.
"Yves!" she called, desperation bleeding into her voice. "Yves, where are you?"
Behind her, heavy footsteps were getting closer. She glanced back and her stomach dropped.
The demon filled the hallway behind her. One enormous hand grazed the ceiling, the other hand held its mace.
The cells kept going, how many were there?
A massive hand reached for her, claws scraping the wall beside her head. She ducked, sliding under its arm, and drove her dagger into its thigh without thinking.
Gin was there a second later. He stepped in too close for the mace to be effective, and drove his blade deep into the creature's exposed side. The angle was perfect, between ribs. Black demon blood splashed across them both, but the jailer didn't go down.
Even with the sword buried in its side, it twisted, swinging a massive claw at Gin's head. He ducked, yanked the blade free, and rolled backward.
His boots found purchase immediately, and he was up again. But the creature attacked again, and this time Gin couldn't dodge in time. The blow caught him square in the ribs, lifting him off his feet and slamming him into the stone wall. He slid down with a grunt, one hand pressed to his side.
Juno scrambled to her feet, dizzy. The jailer was already turning back toward Gin, raising its mace to finish him off. She lunged forward and drove her dagger into the creature's back with everything she had.
The blade sank deep. It thrashed, trying to reach her, but Gin stepped forward, raised his katana with both hands, and despite the way his injured arm trembled, he brought it down fast. The blade sank deep into the jailer's neck, cutting through the flesh.
The demon collapsed completely. The sound of its fall shook the walls. Gin pulled the sword free, flicked the blood off the blade, and sheathed it without looking.
For a moment, nothing moved except the slow drip of blood pooling on stone. Then Juno's knees gave out. She fell, gasping, her hand pressed against her chest. Her vision blurred, darkness creeping at the edges.
She didn't hear Gin approach until his hands were on her shoulders, steadying her.
"Hey." His voice was rough. "Look at me."
He crouched in front of her. Torchlight illuminated the blood on his face, the sweat soaking his hair. He was breathing hard, jaw tight, but his green eye was locked on hers.
"Breathe," he said. "Slow."
She tried, but her lungs wouldn't cooperate.
Gin's jaw tightened. "This isn't just from the fight." She didn't answer that. His hand moved to her back. "Juno."
"I'm fine," she managed.
"Bullshit." The word came out harsh, but his touch stayed gentle. "You can barely breathe."
She looked away, shame filling her chest. "I just need a minute."
"A minute." He let out a sharp breath through his nose. "You collapse after every fight and you want me to believe you're fine?"
"I'm not–"
"I've seen you cough up blood, Juno." His voice dropped lower. "Don't insult me by pretending there's nothing wrong."
She flinched. Of course he'd noticed.
"I can handle it," she said quietly.
"Can you?" Gin's eye searched her face, and for a moment, he looked almost angry. But underneath it, she saw fear. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're killing yourself."
She didn't have an answer for that. Gin exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. "Come on. Let's get you off the floor."
He helped her to a broken chair against the wall, keeping his hand on her back the entire time. He didn't let go until she was sitting.
"Deep breaths," he said quietly. "You're still here."
She nodded, even though she wasn't sure how much longer that would be true.
Gin stayed crouched in front of her, watching her like he was waiting for her to collapse again. "That was reckless," he said finally.
"You're one to talk."
"I'm not the one who–" He stopped himself, exhaling sharply. "You could've gotten yourself killed."
"So could you."
"That's different."
"How?"
"Because I heal, you don't."
Juno looked down at her hand, they were still shaking. "I couldn't just stand there."
"Why not?" It seemed like he was forcing himself to be soft with her. "That's what I told you to do."
"Because…" She swallowed hard. "Because I'm tired of being useless." Gin went still. "I'm tired of watching you fight for me," she continued. "I'm tired of being weak."
"You're not weak."
"Yes, I am." She looked up at him. "I've been weak my whole life. And I'm sick of it."
Gin stared at her for a long moment. Then he reached out and wiped blood from her cheek with his thumb. "You're not weak," he said again, quieter this time. "You're just..." He trailed off. "You're sick. That's not the same thing."
She didn't respond. "And rushing into a fight you're not ready for doesn't make you strong," he continued, his voice rough. "It just makes you dead."
"I know."
Gin's hand lingered on her face for a moment longer before he pulled back. "Next time, don't make me think you're about to die."
"I thought you were," she admitted. He looked surprised for a second.
"Yeah. well." His voice was rough. "Don't think that."
Her eyes went to his arm. The bandage was darkened with blood, but it wasn't completely soaked through.
"It reopened," she said quietly.
Gin glanced at it and shrugged with his good shoulder. "A little. It'll close on its own."
"You sure?"
"I've had worse." He flexed his hand, testing it. The movement made him wince, but his fingers still worked.
"We need to find your friend." She wanted to argue, but he was right, they didn't have time. And it wasn't bleeding badly enough to be immediately dangerous.
"After," she said firmly. "After we get him out, I'm fixing that."
"Deal."
They stayed like that for a second longer, both bloodied and exhausted, before Gin pushed himself to his feet with a quiet grunt.
From the darkness at the end of the corridor, a sharp voice rang out.
"Well, well, well," Ain said in a drawling voice from the hallway. "Look who finally decided to stop dying."
Juno raised her head in time to see the demon cat enter the scene, moving his tail, his fur still impeccable. Typical.
"I'd clap, but sadly I don't have hands," he continued with a smile that spread across his face. "Also, that annoying guy over there can't stop whining about being in the dark. I swear, if I have to hear 'Juno, is that you?' one more time, I'm going to let the rats eat him."
Juno's heart jumped. "Yves."
Ain rolled his eyes. "Yes, your dramatic, hopeless little friend. He's fine. Well, emotionally unstable and mildly dehydrated, but alive." He tilted his head. "Kept talking about your voice like you were some holy spirit or something. Honestly, it was embarrassing."
Gin slowly stood up, cleaned his sword with a piece of cloth and sheathed it again. "Where is he?"
"Two cells down," Ain said, turning back to Juno with a gleam in his eye. "You planning on going to him like this? Because no offense, darling, but you look like a demon chewed you up and spit you out."
Gin shot him a stern look. "Give her a minute."
But Juno was already pushing herself up. Her heart pounded, hearing that Yves was here, alive, calling for her. He'd been alone in the darkness. And he'd been waiting for her.