The hazy sky has a tint of rose as light filters through airborne dust and silt. I walk to the entrance of Dredge Towers. I had planned to return to the high rise's thirteenth floor, but the nearby sink hole draws me like a magnet. Now that the rain has stopped and the water is receded, I sense something in the trench. An essence of Evander. I'm not surprised to see that his abandoned hover car has slid off the street and disappeared into the pit.

I move to the edge of the sink hole and pause a moment to glance up at the Tower. Despite being daytime, the decrepit building resonates with a sickly vibe. A sinister intent, as if it is alive. Every so often, thick, black fabric is pulled from the corner of the covered windows where an undead is nested and a ghoulish face is thrust into view as it peers outside. Regardless of the building's unstable infrastructure and infestation, I would rather face the Tower's undead presence than probe the unknown depths of this cavernous tomb.

I pull on a pair of gloves and hook the safety line from my hover car's winch system to my utility belt, then lower myself butt first into the hole. My feet dangle unseen in the pitch blackness. Above me, the jagged edges of the sink hole opening shrink as I descend underground. After a minute, I'm swallowed by darkness. The lack of illumination makes me feel as if a velvet bag has been pulled over my head.

I have never felt so miserable. My whole life I've been able to shield myself from emotional pain by using my psychic powers and logic. Right now, I'm operating on pure adrenaline, without calculating the odds of my survival.

I don't care.

If I can't find Evander, my life will be more of an emotional wasteland than these barren quadrants.

I need to fix what I did to him—even if it kills me.

I blink slowly as my eyes adjust to the darkness and my focus returns. I need to find the catacombs of the ancient ones. Surely with their powers of foresight they left a clue or a message about the unnatural creature that attacked me and manipulated the transit hyper field, just as the texts predicted the anti christ. The preternatural creature that is a threat to Sylex. Perhaps that's why the ancient guild leaders sought sanctuary underground. What is it? One of their experimental monstrosities that escaped from their illegal labs when they tried to play God. Or perhaps a victim of their perpetual youth technology? They go light years ahead of cryogenics and do soul transplants, boasting to their client's the potential of immortality.

Fifteen feet above the floor, my body jerks in the harness as I run out of line.

Damn. The last thing I want to do is drop into a thick mud comprised of sucking quicksand.

Reaching over my shoulder, I pull my light sword from its sheath and illuminate the subterranean interior with electric blue light. Below me, a sandy ledge about three meters long is visible. Using my sword, I reach up and slice the metallic cord. The line whips, springing like like a serpent's coiled umbilical cord. Arms pinwheeling wildly, I drop for a heart-stopping moment before landing with a muffled thud. A few feet below me, the broken hover car is upside down, sunk into the brownish muck. Chunks of asphalt that were once part of the paved road tumble off the side of the ledge, but my perch holds.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I flick the sidelight light of my headgear on. Scanning the area, I'm relieved that the rain water that flooded the sink hole earlier has receded. Something scuttles in the dark. I spin, arcing my sword in wide Celtic patterned circles, to push back any approaching creatures. I note a still pool of opaque water in the center of the floor.

They are afraid of the light. And torch fire. But not water. They swim like marine iguanas, their slippery bodies undulating like eels.

For a full minute, the only sound is the steady plink of water striking large, broken slabs of concrete embedded in the sand floor. Scurrying along the ground several feet below me, I sense rodents scurrying over the rubble and past the rocky debris. This is a good sign. The undead will feed on rats when they can't get human blood. The area is clear of the night stalkers.

I tilt my head. Why?

I follow a tunnel system that descends deeper before leveling. A few hundred yards later, I learn the reason.

Inside a vaulted cavern, the crumbling rock walls are dripping with moisture. The place has an evil, damp smell about it. Dead carcasses of rats are piled up along the walls. Most have been drained of blood. The others have been gutted and ripped apart with their heads chewed off.

Something was ravenous.

My stomach churns as I hold my sword aloft and see chains and manacles on the the exposed walls. I swallow my disgust at what I'm seeing. A modern dungeon, but much older than the rest of the city's underground architecture, built over an ancient square structure. The area reminds of picture I've seen of medieval strongholds.

As I proceed, cool air sweeps my face like a witch's breath. I see more empty dungeons further along the corridor. The tunnel branches out and I discern that the widest one leads to a large, vaulted ceiling chamber. As I step into the cavernous room, my sword pings with a distinctive humming sound that alerts me to a paranormal presence. The tip turns white-ultraviolet hot as a beam of light shoots into a darkened corner.

A large casket sized box blocks my way. To my horror, I realize it's a crude Med-Bed-like device As I draw near, the overwhelming stench coming from the metal box makes my eyes water. Using the tip of my sword, I lift the cover a few inches to peer in.

Milky white eyes stare up at me in a gargoyle-like face that is suspended in a soupy stew of its own fluids. The liquid that the body is floating must be from the body's decomposition. When I see claw marks on the inside of the box. I let the lid fall back onto the box. Whatever it was, it's dead now. More merciful than left caged in a six foot tomb.

There's twelve more of these caskets spread throughout the room, but I before I can open them, I hear scuffling as if something is being dragged over the ground.

A pitiful whimpering sound and rapid breathing breaks the silence. I hold my breath and ready my sword as a small, wizened face manifests in the dark. As I draw closer, I see a skull covered with scraggly, filthy black hair. The creature is dressed in fancy rags that in a different part of this thing's life might have been a girl's blue floral dress.

I grunt in surprise when my sword's light beam intersects with its heart chakra.

The malnourished skeleton is human.

Skittish, the withered figure makes a break for the tunnel entrance, scrabbling on all fours. From the surprising speed, I realize, it must be young. Sixteen years old at most. A thin trickle of blood from a cut on her scalp drips onto her pale cheek.

"Wait! I won't hurt you." I take a running leap and vault over the coffin-like box, landing in front of the fleeing child. She collapses like a leaf in front of me and curls herself into a ball, crying with fear.

I change the sword's energy to a rose colored healing frequency and rest it on the floor. Modulating my voice, I try to soothe the child. I hope she isn't permanently  insane with fear. I need to know what happened here.

"Shh...my name is Zoe. I'm a Light Worker with New York's Trinity Guild. I'm here to help you."

For a moment, the whimpering ceases. The child's terrified, hiding her face, but I intuit she's listening to me.

"Can you tell me your name?"

More whimpering. The vermin infested tangle of hair shifts as she dares to look at my feet. I get a whiff of her unwashed body and force myself not the move back. Under her reek, I pick up a scent of Evander.

I take a step closer.

Another step.

"Has another Lightworkers been here? A man with dark hair?" I touch her shoulder and she recoils in terror.

This might take a while.

"Ok, sorry." I draw my hand back. "Listen, I need to take you out of here. I'll bring you to a healing center where you'll be safe."

I scan the darkness. "Is this place abandoned?"

Silence.

"What's your name?"

Her terrified eyes find mine. "L..La..Lila."

"Lila, that pretty." I keep my voice calm and soothing. Lila, we both need to get out of here."

"I...can't...le..le..leave."  The trembling voice sounds like a metal key that is trying to turn in a rusty lock after centuries of being unused. "With..with.." She lisps the last two consonants.

"It's alright. You can trust me, I'll get you to the surface. I won't let anyone hurt you."

An agonized cry rises from the heap of rags, "without my baby." She starts sobbing, hysterically."

She points to the corner where a clear incubator sits. When I examine the prenatal unit's contents, I gasp.

Shit.

My problems have multiplied ten fold.