The tunnel tightened as we advanced, stone pressing close on either side. The ceiling dipped low enough that sound clung instead of traveling, every breath lingering. Ahead, the passage bent and constricted, funneling us toward the stretch the kobolds had chosen to hold.
We settled into the space without discussion.
Khalid took the forward position, shield angled rather than raised—set to cover himself while leaving room for someone to move close behind. Jaheira stayed just off his shoulder, weight forward, already prepared to step through the moment holding ground stopped being enough. Rasaad remained light on his feet, attention divided between the floor and the walls, while I stayed back far enough to see the whole stretch, crossbow steady.
Imoen crouched near the bend, eyes fixed ahead.
"They haven't moved," she said quietly.
Jaheira inclined her head.
She drew one hand briefly across the leather at her chest, fingers pressing flat as she murmured something too low to catch. The air around her seemed to thicken, subtle but present, and she exhaled once before settling her weight forward.
I let my gaze drop from the figures ahead to the stone between us. The floor wasn't uniform. One slab sat a fraction lower than the others—exactly where Imoen had indicated before—its edges worn smoother, dust settled differently along its seams. Not obvious, but wrong in a way that pulled the eye once you knew where to look.
If we stayed where we were, the archers would take their time. If we edged forward, the ground would do the rest, and every careful choice fed the same result.
Khalid adjusted his grip on the shield. "So we don't rush."
"And we don't linger," Jaheira said.
That settled it.
Rasaad's eyes followed mine for a moment, then lifted again. He didn't comment, but his stance shifted—ready to move rather than hover.
I exhaled slowly. "Careful already failed. If this changes, it won't be clean."
Jaheira looked to the floor, then back to me, measuring. "You're certain?"
"No," I said. "But I know where it starts."
Imoen's gaze dropped at last, following the line of my crossbow without me needing to lift it. Her mouth tightened slightly.
"That'll be loud."
"Yes," I agreed. "And it won't slow them down."
Khalid squared his shoulders. "I'll hold."
Jaheira rested a hand briefly against his back. "You will."
Rasaad drew a steadying breath. "Then we move the instant it breaks."
The stone waited underfoot, patient as anything that only needed a touch.
I raised the crossbow.
The bolt left the string with a flat crack that felt too small for what we were asking of it, struck stone just short of the slab at a poor angle, and shattered on impact. The sound snapped sharp through the tunnel as wood splintered, and a jagged length ricocheted sideways into the cheek of one of the kobolds at the front of the line.
He screamed.
The formation broke. Bodies shifted, spears dipped, and one kobold lurched back, hands clawing at his face as dark blood streaked between his fingers. Another surged forward, spear rising as boots scraped stone where they hadn't moved at all before.
Arrows flew, one trailing a sputtering line of flame as it cut through the smoke.
Khalid stepped into them without waiting for the sound, shield coming up at an angle that caught the first shaft and knocked it spinning away. The impact drove him back half a step, boots skidding, but he held.
Jaheira was already moving.
The next arrow passed close enough to steal her breath as it hissed by, and she didn't slow—planting herself forward, staff coming up as she drove into the disrupted line.
The ground shifted underfoot.
Rasaad adjusted instinctively, and the stone answered him with a click that cut through everything as the trap went.
A deadfall dropped hard, stone slamming into stone with a sound like a snapped bone.
Dust burst outward, choking the space. One of the kobolds vanished beneath it with a startled cry.
Shouting erupted from the rear, and fire bloomed where oil caught and ran.
An arrow streaked past Khalid's shield trailing light, struck the wall, and burst into flame. Smoke rolled thick and biting, filling the tunnel with heat and noise.
Imoen shifted laterally behind Khalid's cover as another arrow clattered off his shield, her bow coming up as she tracked movement in the rear. Rasaad recovered in the same breath he lost, rolling clear as debris skidded across the floor where he'd been a heartbeat before.
The space was no longer controlled. It was breaking, and there was no space left to withdraw.
The heat hit before the sound finished fading.
Flame caught along Jaheira's shoulder where oil flared against leather, crawling fast where it found purchase. She didn't cry out—dropping instead, twisting low and rolling into the stone, grinding shoulder and arm hard against the ground until the fire smeared, flared once more, and broke apart under her hand.
Smoke curled around her, stinging and sour.
Khalid stepped with her without being told, shield snapping into place as another arrow struck and skidded away in sparks. He planted his feet and leaned into the pressure, taking the line where it wavered.
"Forward," Jaheira said, voice roughened by smoke but steady.
Rasaad moved at once, slipping past the edge of falling debris, boots finding purchase where there shouldn't have been any. He struck low and fast, driving a kobold back into the tangle of bodies still fighting to hold the choke.
Imoen loosed from behind the shield, her arrow threading the momentary gap. One of the archers jerked sideways with a startled cry, bow clattering against stone.
The last archer didn't retreat.
When the distance closed, he snarled and dropped the bow without hesitation, short blade flashing into his grip as he backed against the stone. His eyes flicked once toward the descent behind him, then back to us.
Jaheira reached him before he could set his feet.
The staff in her hands moved differently now—no longer just wood and balance, but weight with intent. She stepped in and brought it down once, the blow landing with a dull, final crack as the kobold collapsed where he stood, blade clattering uselessly across the stone.
Silence followed. Smoke thinned enough to breathe. Bodies stopped moving.
Khalid held his position a moment longer, shield still raised, eyes searching for any last surge of motion. When none came, he lowered it slowly, shoulders sagging with release.
Rasaad wiped blood from his forearm with the back of his hand and tested the movement once. It hurt. He accepted that and said nothing.
Imoen advanced just far enough to confirm what was already clear, eyes moving from body to body before she eased back again.
Beyond the fallen and shattered stone, the passage dropped away into darkness. Cool air drifted up from below, carrying the smell of old water and rusted iron.
Jaheira rested the base of her staff against the floor and leaned into it briefly, breath measured but heavier now.
"We stop here," she said.
Khalid nodded at once.
I glanced back the way we'd come—toward smoke, broken traps, and the narrow space that had exacted its price.
Then forward again.
I knew who was supposed to be waiting below.
That certainty should have been reassuring.
It wasn't.