Almost 

It won’t go. Tick, clang, crash. The whistle of a falling sword slices the air. Thunk.The stain, it’s spreading from the precious body across the floor, onto his coat; the sleeves are drenched. Too dark. Too permanent. “Gober, hurry the fuck up and open the box before we all die!” Ryder’s voice, coming from the locked door, barely registers in Gober’s frantic mind. The gnome scrubs desperately at his sleeve, transferring the guilt from one cuff to another. He should have refused the boy’s pleading to come. “We can’t help him, but you can save us. The box is the key.” Eldreth takes Gober’s age-gnarled hands, stained red, in her own leather-clad ones. “Please.” Gober sees the fear in her elf-eyes, so pale. He needs to stop this stain from growing. Tick, clang, crash...whistle…thunk. “Holy shit!” Rocking to his arthritic knees, Gober crawls away from the source of his guilt. He must keep going. Tick, clang, crash...whistle…thunk. That blasted clockwork ceiling is getting too close. He should have figured it out sooner. Ryder’s crouching now. The box is old, Gober assesses, running the pads of his experienced fingers across the ancient wooden chest, untouched for centuries; sunk into the stone floor. The final of a series of heinous booby traps and this is where they will die. He needs to listen, to follow the click, click of his instruments in the mechanism of the box’s lock. The stain is growing, the pulsation slowing in the ever-dimming light. “Hurry up! … please.” Ryder’s on his knees.“Let him concentrate.” Eldreth is losing her well-renowned patience. Click, click – that bright young face, determined to prove he could be the best human master clockmaker – click, click – the boy’s first working clock – click, click, the excited expression when they set off for this adventure Click… Tick, clang, crash...whistle…thunk. Creak…A lid and a door open. The gods are cruel. Gober and Eldreth stare into a chest filled with birdseed. No Anastasis Stone. Birdseed.It cannot be possible.“Gober, we have to go.” Eldreth pulls at his arm. “No, I won’t, I can’t leave him!” Ripping his arm from Eldreth’s elf-strong grasp, Gober rakes through the pit of seeds, the stain growing darker and thicker across his mind. Throomb…Throomb… His only hope of salvation is in reach. Tick, clang, crash...whistle…thunk.“We go, now!” “Not without…” With the power of her kind, Eldrith propels Gober through the now open, but disappearing door, following him on her front. “Francis!” Gober cries. “He’s here.”Turning, Gober finds his heart settling, the stain receding slightly at the sight of that loved, immobile body at Ryder’s feet. Tick, clang, crash...whistle…boom! The ceiling hits the stone floor. Crawling, his body weak, Gober reaches his precious treasure, placing the weight of his closed, blood-soiled hand over the boy’s heart. The stain recedes; the colour returns to the dead face and the slice through the heart from the first falling blade closes. The stain is gone. Almost.