Clove stood at the top of the stone staircase, hands-on-hips, with Rosemary and Saffron flanking on either side. “Hope you’re ready tú, you glorified basement-dweller! The Misfortunettes are here to kick your ass and loot this dump for whatever it’s worth.”
In that moment the chain holding open the iron portcullis snapped, causing the grate to shut behind them.
“Clove,” Rosemary said, letting out a sigh. “Did you have to announce our presence as soon as we stepped in?”
Saffron experimentally poked the metal grate, only for a spark of dark energy to zap her finger. “Ooooh, that’s definitely cursed metal… so, uh, I don’t think I’ll be able to melt it.”
“So we’re locked in.” Rosemary pressed a hand to her forehead, muttering a prayer. “Seraphae, please grant us protection… especially from Clove’s theatrics…”
“Relax, Rosie.” Clove rolled her eyes. “Slaying tú will probably let it open again. Right, Saff? Ain’t that usually how it works?”
Saffron nodded sagely. “Yeah, probably!”
“Not a very confident answer,” Rosemary said, grimacing.
Clove drew her daggers, grinning. “Come on, ladies. The only way left to go is down, so let’s get moving!”
With that, the three of them descended the stone staircase into the dungeon. And in the first room, they find…
