They only have so much time before the mayor figures them out. They need to figure out what’s going on with Helmbeck before whatever happened to its citizens happens to them. There is no time to rest.

And yet.

She’s weighed down with exhaustion. Her steps are slow and shaky as she battles against cobblestones once more. Despite her best efforts, her ankle twists, and she falls. The duke manages to catch her before she can kiss the road.

“I think you have reached your limit,” he tells her sympathetically. The duke lifts her up and carries her back to the entrance of the inn. “Stay here. I will return shortly.”

He’s not wrong about her; fatigue has dampened her feelings to the point that being left alone does little to scare her. It’s as if she’s used up all her emotions. If a demon appears, she might even forget to scream.

In the darkness of the false night, her eyes grow heavy with sleep. She thinks about going in and taking a nap on one of the couches. It’s a bad idea, but it sounds so good. Just as she decides to lie down, the duke appears, pushing an old, rusted wheelbarrow up to her.

“Get in,” he says, dropping the wooden handles to gesture with both hands.

“Excuse me?” She stares down at what appears to be a giant rust bucket riding a unicycle. “You want me to what?”

“It is either this, or I put you over my shoulder,” Duke Wulf says pleasantly.

She climbs into the wheelbarrow without a fuss. If she wraps her arms around her knees, she can sit comfortably. Might as well embrace being a heavy load, she tells herself.

She doesn’t get the easy ride she hopes for.

As the duke pushes her through the town, every stone on the road does its best to leave an imprint of itself on her tailbone. Not helped is the duke’s fast pace which threatens to send her flying from the wheelbarrow at any moment.

By the time the cobblestone turns into a smoother gravel, she feels like she’s already gone through combat. It doesn’t escape her notice that the duke smirked the entire time.

“I think you enjoy my suffering,” she says with certainty.

“I would never,” Duke Wulf lies. “I am a true gentleman.”

While she doesn’t understand this world’s measurement system enough to know how far the mine is from the town, she understands it should take at least two hours. Maybe less with the way the duke is moving.

The wheelbarrow’s squeaky wheel is loud in the dead of night, and she figures idle conversation to pass the time won’t hurt. She ruminates on what to ask, what to say.

She blinks and then blinks again.

She must have fallen asleep because she doesn’t remember seeing the end of the road. A large, wooden sign points to a small, nearly invisible path; its letters are big enough to be seen under the moonlight.

Salt Mine Cave.

The wheelbarrow continues onward until they reach the entrance of the mine. She’s expecting a cave, but all she sees is a wooden house with a large, square door. The building resembles a warehouse in size and style.

“There should be guards posted,” Duke Wulf says with a frown before helping her out of the wheelbarrow. “Stay close.”

The duke grabs a rope latch on the square door and pulls it upwards. Pure darkness greets them. Flames flicker between the duke’s fingertips, but no light source can be found. The building seems completely empty.

She smugly lifts her small, clam lantern. It will serve them well as its thick glass is held by wrapped wire, making it easy to hold, and inside is a glob of melted candles mashed together, creating a brighter light.

The duke rolls his eyes but takes the lantern. He waves the tiny light into every corner, but no demons hide in the shadows. The only thing the building contains is a massive tunnel in its back wall.

“They could still be deeper inside,” Duke Wulf says unconvincingly.

“And if they aren’t?” she asks.

“We go with our other plan.” Murder, he means, which is admittedly starting to look like an option.

They step into the tunnel, and wooden structures fade away into spooky carved stone. She sticks close to the duke. The jagged rocks dotting the tunnel resemble teeth or demons in the glow of the lantern, and the cool breeze against her face feels like monstrous exhales.

Unfortunately, now that she’s wide awake, her brain is doing its very best to sabotage her.

Forward and down, they go for a small eternity, and the stone walls turn from dark grey to off-white. The breeze gets steadily saltier, and unlit sconces on wooden posts become frequent sights.

There is still no sign of people.

“We are close to the actual mine,” Duke Wulf tells her. “When we get there, try and grab some salt. It burns demons like the hottest fire.”

Their footsteps are loud enough in the tunnel, but every click of their heels echoes like a scream once it starts widening. As the walls and ceiling grow farther from the light of the lantern, the more it feels like they’re wandering on an endless stage.

She keeps a tight grip on Duke Wulf’s coat out of fear that she’ll be left behind. For every step he takes, she takes two just to keep up. She almost trips when he suddenly stops.

“They are here,” he growls.

The candles inside the lantern go out. The duke’s glowing yellow eyes are the only thing she sees in the darkness. He pushes her down, and something sails past her head.

Red fireflies burst into life, and Duke Wulf’s sword burns brighter than normal to let them see more of the cave surrounding them. She can make out minecarts and platforms that hold pulley-systems. At the edge of the light, a large spiral, wooden staircase descends into darkness.

The Ashen Wolf lifts his blade to the ceiling, his growl near inhuman. Against her better judgement, she looks up. She immediately chokes back a scream.

Hanging upside down from the ceiling is a giant bat with a deformed human face. Large, leathery wings hug tightly to it like a dress, and the claws of its feet that hold it to the ceiling are monstrous in size.

“Hello, Saintess. Fancy meeting you here,” it says with an upside-down grin. Its eyes are made of the void, and saliva drips down fangs like stalactites.

She prays futilely to the Goddess for help.