Karigan's eyes closed. Her air was coming in short bursts now. She could almost feel Westrion's wingbeats, hear Salvistar's hoofbeats. Her hand twitched weakly, her eyelids fluttered. She could feel the life draining out of her.
A sudden, blinding light shone through her closed eyelids, and fresh air hit her lungs as she gasped. Cracking open her eyes, she saw the face of one of the caretakers – Agemon – looming above her.
"You again!" he grumbled to himself. "Every time I turn around you are here, lurking in my tombs. Do you know that you are sleeping on Lil Ambriodhe's bones? Do you even care? I don't care what the weapons say…this time it has gone too far!" Agemon exclaimed, waving his hands about.
Another voice cut into his rant. "What about the weapons?" came a cool familiar voice. Karigan sagged in relief. It was Fastion! If anyone could tell her what was going on, it would be him. His face peered over the lip of the tomb, taking in her bloody, glass filled legs, her broken wrist, and her other various wounds that she had accumulated during her stay in Blackveil. Turning to Agemon, he pointed. "Find Brienne. Tell her to alert the mending wing that they will soon have a patient who is…critical"
Karigan tried to make sense of what was going on. She must be in the tombs, because Agemon was there. But how had she gotten there? The last thing she remembered was smashing her mirror mask at the feet of Mornhavon/Yates.
Ohh…Yates…she hoped with all her heart that he was okay. She would never be able to live with herself if he wasn't. And all of the others – where were they? Had they made it out of Blackveil alive? Fastion was still speaking, but his words were garbled and meaningless in her ears. She watched his lips move, mesmerized by the sight.
Fastion leaned over her, lifting her out of her tomb. Karigan gasped as the pain enveloped her, and the world went dark.