bodies and kept running down the hallway.
"In here," Gloriae said, opening a door. A stairwell led into darkness, lined with torches. She ran down the steps, Kyrie and Agnus Dei behind her. A soldier ran up from below. Gloriae tossed her dagger and hit him in the throat. Not slowing down, she ran past him, pulled her dagger free, and kept racing downstairs.
The stairwell led into dank, dark tunnels. They twisted underground like the burrows of ants. Gloriae's sword and dagger flew, cutting down all in her path. Their blood washed the floor. The Vir Requis ran down narrower, steeper stairwells, delving into the world's belly.
Finally Gloriae reached a wide tunnel, its walls cut from solid rock. The Beams lay ahead, she knew. Last time she'd been here, a hundred men had guarded the place. Gloriae tightened her lips. She would shift. She would burn them. And once I have the Beams, I will kill Dies Irae.
She burst into the chamber. She saw the towering, iron doorways that protected the Well of Night. Three golden skulls were embedded into the doors, their sockets glowing. The Beams. The chamber was empty.
Gloriae skidded to a halt. Agnus Dei and Kyrie ran to her sides and stopped, panting. They held their bloodied blades high.
"A hundred soldiers once filled this chamber," Gloriae said, staring around with narrowed eyes. "The Well of Night, where we must seal the nightshades, lies behind those doors."
Agnus Dei struggled to catch her breath and said, "Those skulls. Are they the Beams?"
Gloriae nodded.
Agnus Dei made to run at them, but Gloriae held her back. "Wait. Something is wrong."
Kyrie nodded. "Everything is wrong. Benedictus and Lacrimosa need us! I'm getting the Beams."
He shoved past Gloriae and made a beeline to the doors.
Shadows scuttled on the ceiling.
"Kyrie, wait!" Gloriae shouted.
She looked up at the ceiling and froze. Her heart thrashed, and tears sprang into her eyes. No, it couldn't be. Couldn't! She clenched her teeth and her sword, and struggled not to faint.
Kyrie saw the creatures too. He froze and stared at the ceiling, the blood leaving his face. Agnus Dei looked up and let out a shrill cry.
"What the abyss are those?" Agnus Dei whispered.
"They are us," Gloriae whispered. "Molded at the hand of Dies Irae."
The three creatures scurried down the walls like spiders, and stood facing the Vir Requis. They were sewn together from old, rotting flesh. Limbs of bodies had been attached with strings and bolts. The limbs, heads, and torsos were mismatched; they came from different bodies. Blood and maggots covered the creatures, and their teeth were rotten. Their eyes blazed.
Two were female. One had long, matted, yellow hair that swarmed with worms. The other had dank, stinking black curls. A third creature was male, a youth of yellow hair, rotting flesh, and one leg that came from a goat.
The females looked like decaying versions of Gloriae and Agnus Dei. The male looked like Kyrie.
"Welcome, living sister," said the rotting Gloriae. She opened cracked, bleeding lips to reveal sharp teeth. Maggots rustled inside her mouth. "Welcome, Gloriae."
Gloriae screamed, nauseous.
"Shift!" she screamed. "Kill them!"
She tried to become a dragon, but the magic failed her. She strained, but remained human. She looked at Kyrie and Agnus Dei; they too were struggling to shift, but could not.
The creatures laughed. "Your curse will not work here, no, darlings. You are in our realm now. We are mimics. We love you. You will join us."
Gloriae screamed and charged toward the creatures. Kyrie and Agnus Dei screamed too, and attacked their rotting doppelgangers.
Gloriae's sword drove into her mimic's chest. Its blood spurted, black, foul. The creature laughed, maggots spilling from its mouth. It dug its claws into Gloriae's shoulders, and Gloriae screamed. Poison covered those claws; they sizzled and steamed.
She pulled Per Ignem back and swung it. The blade sank into the creature's neck, and worms fled the wound, squirming up the blade onto Gloriae's hand.
She screamed, shook the worms off, and kicked. Her mimic caught her foot and twisted, and Gloriae fell.
Her mimic fell upon her and bit Gloriae's shoulder. She screamed. The creature's stench nearly made her faint. She kicked and struggled, and managed to punch her mimic's face. Her fist drove into the soft, rotting head, spilling blood and cockroaches. The creature laughed, and its claws clutched Gloriae's chest.
"You will be one of us soon," it hissed. "We will take you apart, and stuff you, and put you together again. Then we'll be together. Then I'll be with you always, Gloriae."