A civil servant was helping your superiors unscrew a drain latch on the street, leaving you some time on your own. You found another drain nearby, and decided to peer within. The overcast sky cast little light below, and you hadn't cared to flash a light.

Water from last night's rain dripping in from the wall above, acting as a catalyst for air flow in the storm drains. Water comes in through the drains, air rises out from these gaps, water filters out, and air gets pulled in. So the Stormdrain breathes.

And this breath was warm. Warmer than you expected, from a dark place where no sun shines. This tepid breath of the earth did not bear the scent of the sterile city or the untamed forests. It was a stench not unlike sweat and unwashed clothes, like wet fur hides and spoiled food.

You grab your mama's sword, and hold it close. She was going to try and save your life with this, until you proved you didn't need saving. Not at that moment, at least.

With a deep breath, you hold that blade close. In a moment of peace, you raise the blade toward the air, and slowly sweep it downward over the grate. Mimicking the life rushing in from above.

You've heard descriptions of the undercities before as hives of filth and debauchery. The heart of the world is felt everywhere, even in a place like that pit. Perhaps especially.

What is that feeling, anyway? This heartbeat of the world?

Is it nature itself, or your perception of it?

The sword in your hand.

It beats too.

Not distant, like that feeling on the wind. It's right here.

A silent clamor raises its volume as it draws near. Rainfall begins. The downpour flows across the ground and into the earth, and more air comes flowing up. The city's blood pumps.

Dice have increased one step.

"Fiona," called Lalli. You head on other and join the others, about to offer to lead the way.

Kiikoinen instead demands he take point. The manhuntress didn't contest his request, only asked if he was sure, which he nodded. And so you all began to crawl in.