The party had come to rest just inside of a large tunnel. It was expansive, and dark. Water dripped from the ceiling creating an irritating plop plop plop every few moments. It was the driest place to be as the sudden rainstorm had kicked up, but as the party begin making camp, General Seth couldn't kick the feeling he had in his gut. His very innards where squeezing tightly and he could do nothing to relax them.

"Sir, what's the matter?" Asked Kyle who had come to stand beside him, watching the preparations. Kyle was almost the perfect protege for Seth. Smart and dutiful, Kyle would die for his country and for his King before all else. He was tall, nearly as much as the General himself, with a short truft of woodland-green hair. He stood his ground, and was rarely caught off-gaurd. If not for the war, Seth was certain he'd be of the same rank as himself.

"I'm worried. You see -" He began.

"We don't know how far this goes and what's waiting on the other side. Further, if we get caught deeper inside the cave, we will become easy targets for enemy formations. Yes, I see the vulnerabilities. Would you like me to arrange a search party to scout back some?" Two fires had started by now – for most of the camp had separated themselves into two distinct groups, though there weren't any obvious lines as to how. Seth was never impressed, but Kyle always exceeded expectations in his mind.

"Very good, Kyle. You go ahead and do that. I must see to the Princess." Kyle bowed as Seth walked away to one of the more ornate tents. On the inside he secretly judged the need for such extravagance, but then had to remember that his Princess wasn't used to living like this, so it must help her mentally to have something resemble life in the palace. And honestly, it wasn't altogether too much. She could have insisted on a full bed instead of the pallet that Frelia's king had given them. She could have wanted daily tea and other amenities that they really couldn't bring along with them. She could have been far more unpleasant and far more whiny. He shuttered at the thought. He hated whiny, he thought as he walked passed some of his first recruits since the war – the archer and her thief friend.

Kyle went to find the other knights. "Forde, Gilliam, come with me. We're going to be exploring." They were half in their armor – for Forde took every chance possible to get out of it – when Kyle had summoned them. They began to pull it all back on, picking up their swords and planting their lances on their backs. Forde was equal height with Kyle, only with blonde hair and a more pleasant face. Gilliam was decently shorter than them both and as such refused ever using a horse.

"What about me?" Asked Franz, rising from his spot by the fire. He was an identical image to Forde when the latter had been fifteen. Franz lacked the definition, strength and scars that his older brother bore with cool ease.

"Son, you're to stay here with the other kids." Kyle said without thought nor care. He strode off without waiting for the other knights, though they did catch up.

Franz planted himself back on his seat, Ameila sitting next to him. "He's always treating me like a child! I'm a knight!"

She put her hand on his knee reassuringly. "It could be worse. In Grado, if they really thought you so useless, they wouldn't bother training you. They'd hand you a lance and send you to the front lines." Her other hand gripped firmly to her own lance. She had gloriously soft blond hair, a smile that looked like stars in twilight, and without her armor, she had a pleasing shape; Franz and Ross tried not to notice.

"You're right, I'm sorry. I just wish that Sir Kyle could see something more, that's all."

"Screw training, mate. Experience is all you need!" Ross said, pulling a roll off of the basket that was being passed around. He handed the basket to Amelia, who took a roll then passed the container to Franz. Whereas Franz looked like his brother, Ross looked like Garcia. His limbs were shorter, and thinner, making him much faster and more agile than his father. But Ross was catching up in muscle mass to his great war-hero father. Ross also, as of late, had only just started seeing the making of a great beard coming in on his boyish chin.

On the other side of the same fire, Lute sat on the ground, resting on her husband, Artur. She had a book in her lap while Artur stroked at her purple hair, tied up in its usual braid, absentmindedly. From time to time she'd look up at him and comment on what she was reading. In the flickering light it became apparent to Neimi that he was so much older than her. Yes, she knew Lute was only two years younger, but Artur looked to be pushing thirty, and Lute didn't look much older than Neimi herself, twenty. It still shocked her to see the young mage so brightly highlighted against Artur's stark white robe. Who can possibly keep their clothes clean in this kind of mess, she thought.

While Neimi had never thought to ask Artur about anything aside from herself and that bloody mirror, Moulder had. He knew that Lute and Artur were married over seven years ago. But based off the way Lute looks, she'd hardly be of age then. It's right near indecent for such a thing. Then again, Artur's Order was much different from Moulder's. For example, Artur's order required cleanliness and purity in symbolism. Moulder's required poverty and chastity. Colm stood not far off practicing pulling out some of his daggers, trying to get as fast at it as he could not caring for anyone else. Moulder thought of the other indecent relationship going on under his nose.

The second fire had a much friendlier group of people. All of Gerrik's gang sat around laughing and cheering, because fighting, moving, then fighting some more was normal for them. Innes and Marissa sat watching the rest of the group. Both had similar temperaments, but Marissa found her gang much more amusing than Innes did. Despite the rumors, there was nothing between Marissa and Innes. She found him to be too pampered, and to Innes she was too brash, too common. Besides, Marissa only had eyes for one. Gerrik, with muscles hard as stones and who wore every battle scar as a trophy, was going on about some battle or another pointing his thumb to his chest with pride.

Ewan was in this group, but, like Marissa, he only had eyes for one and she was choosing to sit with the crudest of them at the other fire. He scowled as he saw the way Ross and Franz touched his Angel. That she would fall in line with such people, the axe-wielder worst of all; the knight-to-be he could understand, but such a brazen, idiotic boy? It made him angry. Ewan was mostly elbows and knees, tall, learned, but not terribly strong or acrobatic. No way his Angel would be into such simpletons for their muscles. It couldn't be. Saleh pulled him from his unpleasurable thoughts by taking him to review his magic.

All in all it was a fairly normal camp night, despite Seth's worries. As the night grew on and people began to retire Kyle, Forde and Gilliam returned.

"Sir, we found an exit on the other side of this cave. We can see the mountains, over which we'll be able to reach Jehanna. The only problem, sir, is that it's completely open, no defenses whatsoever." Kyle said, his hand to his brow while delivering his report.

"Thank you." He looked out the front entrance. It was too late to move the whole group. How he wish he were with seasoned warriors that understood the pressures of battle. "Forde, take Franz, Amelia, Ross, Garcia, Colm and ..." he thought about adding in the last one, sometimes it was easier not to make this person upset, but to split her from Colm might be worse: "and Neimi with you to the other end and set up a camp there. The rest of us will join you. We can't allow anything to sneak up on us and I'll not fight on two fronts."

"Yes, sir." Forde responded, before bowing and retrieving the people he was told. Unfortunately, in preparing them to move he had woken a few others. As Seth looked out to the raining field he saw something very odd. Somehow, it was getting darker, but not by the sky. He continued to watch as a black mass formed over the horizon. He watched a bit more. The shadows had a vaguely human form, he noticed.

"Everyone, pack as fast as you can!" He yelled. He had seen a whole troupe of undead creatures progressing their way. "Everyone, up! Awake!" He ran through the camp yelling orders to get people moved as fast as possible.

It took record time for the party to gather all the important affects and move. They weren't fast enough, however, as the horde was approaching. Many of the weaker combatants had begun to move already, and most of the knights were already gone. Marissa and Joshua put themselves in the throng of the undead, Innes running away – for he knew he'd need to be mostly still to shoot, and did not have that opportunity in close combat – Gerrik and the magic users began attacking for all that they were worth while they ran.

Seth took to the care of the Princess, helping to move her safely. He never wanted to lose a unit but she was a priority.

As the crew grew close enough to attack the magic users, the group of fighters ran deeper into the cave. Lute and Artur created light for everyone to see by. There seemed to be no end to the onslaught of bodies.

The corporal beings hacked and slashed where they could. Gerrik, Saleh, and Marissa were all hit by it and it sapped some of their strength endlessly.

"Quick, get to the healers!" Kyle yelled at them. He was the only knight who stayed behind to orchestrate the defense. The three ran deep into the tunnel fast as they could, leaving Ewan, Joshua, Lute, and Artur left to fight. Lute and Artur had no choice but to throw their magic, extinguishing their light.

The commotion was impossible to make heads nor tails of. Only the random spurts of power from the castors lit the way for anyone else. In the darkness, only Artur noticed he'd been hit. Joshua took down two of the creatures. The force was reducing in size now. Three of them seized on Lute. She spread her arms about her, pulling two wings of fire and slashing the lot of them.

In the sudden and sporadic light, the creatures saw Artur losing blood, and fast. Four of them rounded on where they thought he might have been. Kyle had three he was slashing, but he saw the end of the force in sight. Joshua slew another creature, but had gotten hit in the process. Knowing the orders that Kyle had given Marissa and the others, he ran to the back. The others were far off by now.

In the flashes of light, Artur was attacked again. He couldn't see where it came from. As he spun to find his attacker, another caught him, and another. He fell to his knees, clutched the ground and roared in pain. As he did, spirals emerged from each fingertip, his mouth, his eyes. The light created a vortex around him that filled the tunnel to each end. Every one of the undead beings burned and smouldered, painful half-screams gurgled in their half-decayed throats. The creatures all fell to the ground. Ewan, seeing the creatures dead and gone ran to the rest of the group.

Lute's attention went straight to Artur. She gripped at his hand, still warm from the magic, but there was no response in his grip. She leaned in to hear a heartbeat, but there was nothing. She kissed him, but nothing. She shook him and still nothing. She began to cry, tears pouring forth.

As she cried, her ring began to glow. Her attention was momentarily taken from the sight of Artur's dead body to the ring he'd given her years before. It was a beautiful ring, gold, with a large ruby laid on a platform of sapphires. It was far to ornate for her liking, but Artur had given it to her as her wedding ring. Now, it glowed. It forced her body into the air, feet off the ground.

Her cloak swept around her in mid-air. She wasn't afraid. She could feel an immense energy coming from the ring and it ran up her finger, up her arm, to her torso. From there, it spread to her whole body, and she felt as if something had just opened to her. Her braid undid itself and her purple hair came flowing about her. Her cloak grew longer and her skin aged about five years. She feel back down on to her hands and knees. Kyle came rushing over to her, grasping her shoulders as she panted.

When she looked up, there was a thin image in front of her. Her husband stood before her, glimmering. She looked to her right, where his dead body lay.

"I don't understand."

"Don't you, my dear? That was a gliding ring. It has been storing your power since I gave it to you. I knew that should anything happen that greatly perturbed you, the enchantment would break, returning all your power to you. My sweet, you're a sage now. The amount of time and power you've struggled to get better, well, you are better now."

"If this is what I get for your dying, I'd rather have you back!" She cried.

"That can't happen. Listen to me, this is my gift to you, something to remember me by. This way, you can do so much more – be so much more than anything else I could have done."

"But, why?"

"I don't have much time, I can feel myself slipping. Just know that I love you, my dear." With that, the image faded like smoke on the water. Artur was gone. Kyle sat there awkwardly, waiting for Lute to 'finish' crying. He knew how hard this was on her, he'd been there before, so he didn't want to press her.

When she gave her last sniffles, he released her, going over to Artur's body and lifting it. Lute and Kyle walked solemnly to where the others were. The crowd had gathered at the other entrance. Everyone gasped at seeing Artur's body. Seth ushered Kyle over to him. As Kyle did, he finally looked away from the monk's body. Seth was looking at the ground and Kyle followed his eyes. By the edge of the cavern was another body laying on the floor, a white sheet covering it.

"Who is it?" Kyle asked, quietly.

"Marissa." Seth said. "Place the body there. We'll be cremating them soon."

Kyle placed Artur's body beside the white sheet. Natasha handed him a second sheet from behind him. Lute watched above at the foot of the body, weeping. Neimi tried to hold her, but Lute shrugged her off.

Kyle covered Artur's body with the sheet. He stood as the white cloth took form over the corpse. He bowed his head, as did everyone else, and sent a silent prayer for the fallen.