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Daine felt Lei stiffen slightly, but this was no time for jealousy. He put his arms around Lakashtai, and he could feel her presence, an ember of light in his mind. He pulled her close, and that coal burst into brilliant life. Joy and hope flooded his thoughts, and in the background he heard Tashana howling, fading with each passing second.

A moment later she was gone. Daine opened his eyes, reeling from the experience. Lakashtai was still in his arms; he disentangled himself and gently pushed her away, trying to ignore Lei’s glare.

“We must get to Karul’tash quickly,” Lakashtai said. “If Tashana can touch your waking mind … there is no time to waste. Gerrion knows we need to enter the monolith, so we must assume the firebinders know it as well; we must get there before they do.”

“I think you’re forgetting something,” Daine said.

“Yes?”

“Invisible, shifting labyrinth of death? Gaining entrance to the monolith even if we get through?”

“I can open the gates of Karul’tash, captain,” Pierce said calmly, “and I know the path that leads to the monolith, but we must move quickly. The monolith of Karul’tash is not far from the obsidian city of Gundrak’ul, and our enemy may already be on the march. Let us bind our wounds and heal the injured, and be on our way.”

Daine glanced at Lei, who shrugged as she produced her little wand of healing. “Is there something I should know about?” he asked.

“It’s a long story,” Lei said, passing the livewood rod over one of her burns. “We’ll tell you on the way.”

The path Pierce chose was overgrown, but they soon found traces of an old road buried beneath the vines and dirt. The warforged took the lead, along with the drow warrior Xu’sasar; together, these two carved a path through the underbrush, pressing forward with remarkable speed. Behind them, Daine and Lakashtai listened as Lei told them of Harmattan, the vault, and the curious sphere.

“I have no idea what it’s capable of,” she said, leaping over a chunk of rock, “but I assume it’s where he’s getting this sudden insight into local history. ‘Gundrak’ul’ is a phrase from one of the old languages of the giants, but even I don’t know what it means.”

Daine frowned. “You don’t think it’s …”

“Devoured his mind? Consumed his spirit?” Lei shrugged, watching Pierce up ahead. “He still seems like Pierce to me, and when I touched it … I don’t know. It was distant, hard to read, but I wouldn’t say it was evil.”

“Curious,” Lakashtai said. “If only there was more time, I should like to study it.”

Daine watched Pierce. If anything, the warforged seemed more content than he’d been on the frozen shore. He seemed … serene. Just watch, he thought. Make sure he’s safe.

An hour later the travelers reached the edge of the forest. A barren waste lay before them, and across a thousand feet of scorched earth, a spire of crimson stone rose up to touch the sky.

“Karul’tash,” Shen’kar sang. “Cursed and deadly, avoided by the wise.”

Daine studied the structure. It was roughly conical, with a wide base surrounding a single tower. It seemed to have been carved from a single piece of stone, but that was impossible; not even giants could quarry such a block. This was the work of magic.

“Think of it,” Lakashtai said. “This spire has seen the passage of tens of thousands of years. When its gates were last opened, this was a kingdom of giants. Your ancestors were likely still struggling to make fire.”

“Don’t you mean our ancestors?” Lei said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes … of course,” Lakashtai said, still watching the tower. “Sometimes it is easy to forget my bond to humanity.”

Daine looked at Shen’kar. “So what’s waiting out there?”

“Death,” the drow said. He pointed. “The gate is there, burning at the base. Invisible fire fills the plain, and none can cross it and live.”

“I can,” Pierce said. “The orb will guide me.”

“We haven’t had much luck with guides recently,” Daine said. “Are sure you can trust this one?”

“No.”

Daine sighed. “Right. One way to find out, I guess.