Arnelda, Korgash, and Roland encounter zombies and a gruesome cult in the catacombs under Rexon. But can they survive the fearsome Souldrinker who leads the cult?
 

     “I hate being the bait!” Arnelda sat on the bed with her arms folded, pouting. She had spent the past hour pacing the inn room and the hour before that reading on the floor. The Mists’ blue-grey vapors blocked any view from the window. “Beautiful damsels in distress are supposed to wait for a charming prince, not for some virgin-sacrificing cult to come kidnap them. Next time I see Korgash, I’m kicking him where it hurts.”

     A barely audible thump reached her right ear. She looked toward her window. Everything was as it was supposed to be. Was it someone else’s window she heard being opened? She retrieved her dagger from off the nightstand where she had kept it next to her pack of scrolls. She unlatched her window, lifted it up gently, wincing at the sound that seemed louder in the silence. Tendrils of misty vapor crept inside as she cautiously stuck out her head. She saw nothing but grey over to her left. Then she heard another thump, one so close she had to bite her lip to prevent herself from shouting. She looked to her right and saw the shadowy shape of a foot disappearing through the window next to hers. Then a muffled scream followed by sounds of a struggle.