Gideon wakes at the first scream she hears. This place doesn't remind her of the old, dead and dying places associated with dear old dad the Necrolord Prime. She reaches for a sword she doesn't have and settles for the utility knife from the temple's supplies. It's a toothpick but still a step up from nails. The scream comes again, so that's that.

Harrow is right next to her. Gideon considers letting her sleep, but as she moves away, Harrow latches on. Those thin bony arms make a tight grip. Gideon imagines flipping Harrow's body over her back and running with the pride and joy of the Ninth House as a cape floating behind her. For funsies, yes. For running into potential living nightmares, not so much. "Wake up or let go," Gideon sits up and shakes Harrow. "Up and at 'em. You like the crack of dawn. Well this is the crack of the crack of the crack of dawn."