Eddie reaches out to grab hold of the torch, shifting his weight anxiously from foot to foot. Every so often, he squints into the darkness, as if expecting something to creep up on them. There’s no good option here, and they’re sitting ducks if they don’t figure something out.

“Shit,” he muses as Mat pulls the medallion out of his shirt, eyebrows raised—though it’s next to impossible to see the mixture of awe and surprise on his face in the dark. “What I wouldn’t do for something like that. Yeah, alright. It’s a crapshoot either way. I’m cool with leaving it up to chance.”