Smugglers and Dungeons!

Once upon a time, Icarus had had a horse.

It was a lovely black mare. No war horse, for his parents had not wanted to let it be known who they were, but it was his.

He had taken care of his little Pearl from the day he got her. As soon as he learned how to ride her, he had spent his days and nights chasing after birds, fireflies, and wild boar.

The last one with a bow.

He had long since sold Pearl, the bow had been burned, for it had the Dulo clan sigil on it, and if he tried to chase after a wild boar these days, he was sure he was going to be executed for poaching.

He shook his head.

Huh, he must really be dying, to feel so sorry for himself.

"Basila," he whispered.

He wanted to see her. Not Ingrid.

 Ingrid was probably back in her magical home. Safe and sound. He wished her all the best.

Even if he wanted to feel her lips on his just one more time.

Ingrid was going to survive.

But Basila and he…

Well, the Blood Elves were conquered. They had been conquered for fifty years now, the horselords for a hundred. There was no going back from there.

And his dreams to take this Empire of Plenty, and the Parthian Throne from Emperor Constantine were just dreams.

He would have been happy with a cottage, wives and children.

Because, even if the clan wasn't ruling, it had to be preserved. A Dulo could claim they followed this and that religion, but they all followed the one which created the clan.

They all had a duty to the Lord of Light and Wind.

Icarus blinked. He could hear the neighing of a horse in the distance.

"Well, Pearl," he said. It was sad that his Old Girl had died. But to be fair, no horse could live for so long in a world like theirs.

He just hoped that she hadn't ended up on a farm. There, the horses got eaten after they became too weak to pull their weight.

"I'm happy you are the one who is going to carry me to the Steppe, girl!"

And he was. Truthfully.

The neighing got closer. Icarus smiled.

Who knew? Maybe Basila was going to survive? There was a slight chance. Icarus told himself that it was possible. That he shouldn't lose faith in the elven lady.

The horse which stopped before him looked nothing like his Pearl.

It was red. Its teeth were fangs.

"Ah, a mob," Icarus still reached out. Still offered his hand for the mob to sniff at. "I'd give you a carrot or a steak, but I have neither."

The horse began to sniff at his hand.

"Your coat is shiny," it shone like the lava of the floor above this one. Icarus reached out and petted the horse on the sides. "And you're warm. Do you mind sitting by me? Just until I die? You have my permission to eat me after I die. Better in your stomach than as an undead."

The horse sat by him.

Icarus chuckled.

"Thanks," he bathed in the warmth which was coming from his new friend. His hands petting the luxurious coat. He couldn't get enough of it.

Oh, how he missed being near a horse.

Unknown to him, the real Basila was looking at him with wide eyes.

She was a faint outline now. Barely there. The horse was really a mob.

The boss mob of this floor.

The elven lady knew that it was going to eat Icarus. To turn him into a memory.

But, oh, how she hated herself for not being able to help.

"Just quit," the dungeon core whispered in her ear. "What are you going to do? Get your body back? And then what? You are weak, Basila Angelic."

Basila would have gritted her teeth together if she still had teeth to grit.

"You have always been weak," it continued, knowing no mercy. Digging its claws into a wound which Basila had let fester for far too long. "You just ran when the walls fell."

Basila bowed her head.

She should have been there, with the flag, on the last remaining tower.

Rising the morale.

But she had been a little girl. She had run. Her nurse with her.

"You ran when she got sick," Basila could still hear the coughing of the last person who had loved her. She could still smell the trash from the barrels in that dimly lit alley.

She could still hear as the rat feet did their petter-patter on the stone floor.

"You always run! Why don't you run again, little girl? One last time!"

Basila asked herself the same question.

She looked at Icarus, who was slowly closing his eyes. The horse was beginning to sniff him.

"Because," the ghost made a couple of steps towards the horse. Ready for her battle. "I have a family!"

And she plunged into the animal.

It fought. It was no pushover. It was a boss mob.

But its power came from fire and brimstone. Neither of those things could hurt a ghost.

As the horse trashed and trashed, Basila took more and more of it over.

First it was the heart.

She was going to starve the brain for blood, god darn it, even if that meant that both of them were going to die!

Then she took over the bowels. Emptying them.

The animal was panicking. Basila could taste it in the chemicals which were flooding the animal's brain that it thought it was going to die.

It began to heat up.

Basila knew that it wanted to take Icarus with it.

She forced its brain to stop, pushing the soul out until the animal was cold as the ground they were sitting on.

Basila took a deep breath.

The corpse of the horse took in one as well, even if it didn't need it.

"Darn you!" The dungeon core yelled.

But it was too late. Basila had unlocked her own special ability.

And had gotten another body. One which she wasn't going to keep, but was going to keep her alive…