Sprite left the room, and Ling didn’t protest further.

Further down the hall of the derelict sub, Sprite came upon the open door of Darkholm’s room.

She peaked her head in, not wanting to disturb him. The room had a plush rug and a number of ornate lamps. In one corner sat four unused monitors on a desk, a hub beneath. In another corner, Darkholm lay on a simple cot.

He was older and heavy, with a white beard and hair. He breathed slow and steady, his chest and large belly rising and lowering, hands resting on his rotund stomach.