Embers rained from the ball of swirling fire, orange and red lines crisscrossing its core, heat emanating so fiercely from within, the snow three feet below was melting away into a puddle of warm water. Quelana loved the sight of fire. There was nothing more perfect in the world than the beautiful chaos of the flames lashing and whipping at the air. It was a particularly magnificent thing to behold, though, when it was birthed from the will of one of her pupils.

"Good job, Abby," she called across the rooftop. "You take to the fire as naturally as one of my own sisters."

Above the fireball, Abby's pretty blue eyes were aglow in a bath of red. Her lips spread into a smile and she looked to Quelana. "It's so... empowering." She turned the pyromancy glove that Domhnall had supplied her earlier in the morning ever-so-slightly on its side and the flames obeyed, twisting and snapping and following her lead. She raised it high, thrust her arms forward, and corkscrewed them. The ball of flame arched across the roof and barreled into a stack of crates on the other side. They exploded in a dazzlingly display of fire and splintering wood sprayed into the air as if thrown from a fountain. Abby turned her excited gaze on Quelana and her smile widened. "This is amazing!"

Quelana returned the smile, but held a cautious hand up. "It is, Abby, but don't let the flames get the better of you. Remember that. Always fear the flame-"

"-lest it consume you. Yes, I remember," Abby finished. "I will. I promise." She bit her bottom lip and grinned down at her glove. "I want to do it again. Can I?"

"You can do as you please. Just practice control and restraint as well as those flashy tricks. Where did you get the idea to twist your arms like that when throwing the fireball anyway? I've never had a pupil do that before."

Abby shrugged, a fresh coating of snowflakes falling from the locks of her chestnut brown hair. "It felt right."

Quelana measured the girl before her in the tattered cleric robes, nodding. "Many things do for you, don't they, Abby?"

"I suppose they do, yeah," she admitted, shaking more snow free that had grown caked to her boots. "Everything except miracle and spell casting, I guess." She laughed. "But this stuff... and the thing I did with the Taurus Demon? It just feels... natural."

That's because you are the true chosen, Quelana thought. The one who will bring a new age of fire to Lordran, and save Izalith from ruins. She didn't mean to put anymore pressure on the girl's shoulders, though, so she simply said, "That's good. You can continue practicing that pyromancy spell now if you'd like. I will watch from here. My instructions, for now, are complete."

Abby nodded, thanked her, and almost immediately had another fireball cooking up in the palm of her gloved hand. Quelana watched, but also kept an eye on the streets of the Burg beyond the waist-high barrier encircling the roof. They had been with the merchant, Domhnall, now for two days, though the golden knight Lautrec was swearing up and down he refused to stay one more, so they'd likely be departing before nightfall. Before the dogs.

The dogs, for the most part, had quieted down since the first night, though they still lingered in the streets by day now, stray packs of two and three, and by night they came back in full force, their mutated and engorged heads kept fixed upon Domhnall's little balcony and window. The merchant man had been very kind to them, supplying them with food and drink and shelter, but Quelana could feel his hospitality beginning to wane as his supplies grew shorter in number. It would be for the best if Lautrec did in fact lead them away soon, to where, though, she did not know. The man was quiet most of the time. She'd often catch him staring off into the sky, rubbing at the stubble that grew upon his chin. Patches, though, did enough talking for both of them, constantly joking and laughing and even singing on occasion. Quelana still did not like nor trust the man, though, and kept vigilant of any tricks he might be looking to play. Abby maintained her positive and cheerful demeanor, and Quelana was thankful for it, but the boy's-Benjamin's-health seemed to be failing by the day. His skin looked waxy and yellow, and dark circles had cropped up below his eyes. She worried about him, but, really, there was nothing any of them could do.

The pale oval of 'sun' was creeping towards its apex and Abby was working on her fifth consecutive fireball when Lautrec came to them. Quelana turned and watched the man approach, reading the anger in his posture, the way he marched instead of walked, the way his cold and grey eyes were narrowed beneath his brow. "Abby," she called, standing and stepping between the girl and the knight defensively. "Abby, come here." She stretched back her arm and opened her hand, and soon enough Abby was behind her taking hold of it. "Stay beside me."

"What's wrong?" Abby whispered, but her eyes had grown wide upon seeing Lautrec angrily stomping across the rooftop.

Lautrec had, admittedly, gained some of her trust. After all, he'd had plenty of opportunities to hurt either her or Abby, and had yet to do so. He was a cautious, guarded, man, but he did not seem to share the same lust for cruelty that his bald companion did, and so Quelana gave him the benefit of the doubt as he crossed the roof towards them and did not ignite her pyromancy. Still, she was not yet sure of what the man was capable of, and so she stayed at the ready.

Lautrec stopped a few feet before them and his frown deepened. "What are you doing? Do you think I've come to kill the girl or something?"

"What do you want?" Quelana asked. "She did nothing."

"No," he admitted, lifting a finger to her, "But you did. I wake up and asked Patches where you two are. He tells me on the roof. I ask what you're doing. He tells the girl's been practicing pyromancy with some infernal glove the merchant gave her... for hours."

Quelana frowned herself. "I don't understand. Why do you care-"

"You were practicing pyromancy at night!?" He snapped, cutting her off.

It was Abby's turn to try and speak. "We thought-"

"On a roof!?" Lautrec shouted. "You were up here waving flames around in the night for the whole cursed land of Lordran to see? Do you know what danger you may have brought upon us in your foolishness, witch? I expect as much from the girl, she's young and naive, but you? You should have known better."

Quelana glared at the knight. "You have no right to speak of Abby like that. She is a kind young woman, and you are a paranoid, stubborn, man. Look around us, knight. There's no one here. No one coming to harm us. You're overreacting."

"I'm keeping us alive," Lautrec growled, "and you only seem intent on making that more and more difficult."

"It was Abby who saved us from the Taurus Demon," Quelana snapped back. "It was her who was wise enough to speak amicably with Domhnall and get us shelter from the dogs that would have torn us apart! What have you done for us?"

Lautrec was seething. "If it wasn't for me, the girl would be rotting in a cell."

"I don't think-"

"No, you don't, do you?" Lautrec cut her off.

"Please stop!" Abby shouted. "I'm sorry, okay? I... it's my fault we were up here. I'm sorry, Lautrec. Please don't yell anymore."

Quelana spun to face her. "Abby, you don't have to-"

"No, it's okay," she pleaded. "I understand. It was a mistake. I apologize." She shouldered past, carefully avoiding Quelana's grab at her elbow, and stepped before the knight. Lautrec looked to yell at her, but she reached out and took his right hand between both of hers and squeezed. "I didn't mean to endanger us any further, Lautrec. I am sorry."

Quelana watched as the hard lines of the knight's face softened. Stress lines at his eyes smoothed, his brow lost some of its dig into his nose, his eyes lost some of their intensity, cooled. Quelana looked from Lautrec's face to his hand that Abby still had wrapped in her own. Mother of Izalith, she thought. The girl is using her calming technique on him. She is soothing his anger. Abby... what other secrets do you hold?

Lautrec's anger had subsided, but now he was regarding Abby with a look of both confusion and caution. He pulled his hand away from hers and looked at it for a moment before lifting his gaze back to her. "Don't do that again."

"I just didn't want you to be angry," Abby said quietly, folding her hands at her hips and lowering her head.

Lautrec looked from her to Quelana and back. After a long moment of silence he said, "Your hair should be cut," to both of their surprise.

"My hair?" Abby echoed.

Lautrec nodded. "If you're going to be playing with fire. Unless, of course, you don't mind accidentally catching a head of flames one day." He reached to his hip and pulled a short dagger from a leather sheath. "And it will be one less thing for a man to pull if we come under attack." He tossed the dagger to Quelana.

She caught it by the hilt and Abby turned to stare at it wide-eyed and nervous. Quelana looked over her shoulder at Lautrec and understood that, though his words were true, this was also a kind of punishment for her mistake. When she looked back to Abby, the girl was biting at her lip and running strands of her hair through her fingers. "You don't have to do this."

"No, I should. Lautrec is right," Abby said, nodding. "Take it off." She swallowed, closed her eyes, and lowered to a knee.

Lautrec came clearly into view behind her. His arms were folded, his eyes narrowed. "Go on."

Quelana took a handful of the girl's hair, thinking what a shame it was to take such soft and pretty hair away from her, and slipped the edge of the dagger beneath it. It came off easy enough, the dagger was sharp, and soon enough, tufts of brown hair were falling to the rooftop along with the snow.

When it was done, Abby's hair was shorter than even Ben's. Quelana looked to Lautrec and he gave a nod of approval, moved beside her, and took back his dagger. Abby opened her eyes and looked up a them. "How do I look?" She asked, a hopeful little smile coming to her face.

"Like you might live longer," Lautrec told her. "Now go downstairs. Domhnall and Patches could use help cooking up the last of the food. Then we depart."

"Depart? But... where?" Abby asked, standing and shaking loose strands of her shorn hair from her robes.

"Somewhere else," Lautrec answered in his cold, brief, way, and nodded to the stairs. Abby sighed and headed off, but when Quelana moved to follow, the knight took her by the arm. "Not you."

Abby stopped and turned to give Quelana a concerned look, but Quelana waved her off. "Go on, Abby. I can handle the knight."

After a moment's hesitation, she turned and disappeared down the ladder leading to Domhnall's attic.

When they were alone, Quelana pulled her arm free from Lautrec's grip and stepped away from him. "What do you want with me?"

Lautrec stared at her for a moment before sighing, turning, and heading to the roof's barrier to peer down into the Burg below. After a silence, he said, "We are leaving after we eat. The merchant thinks we can make it beyond the walls of the Burg before dusk. He says the dogs don't stalk the Undead Parish and the church beyond. I watched yesterday from the parapets over there as night fell, and he appears to be telling the truth. We will head there to make passage for Sen's Fortress. I know of a shortcut there to take us to Anor Londo. From there... the Duke's Archives are a short journey. Domhnall says there is an 'army' of hollow in the city. I don't believe him, but if there is, we shouldn't have to stray close enough to fight them." He lifted his gaze to the sky, to the sun. "I mean to meet with Logan... and to see what answers he can provide about what has happened to our world and what we can do to stop it." He turned his head to her and stared, apparently awaiting some reply.

Quelana frowned and stepped beside him. "Why are you telling me all this? Aren't I your prisoner?"

"Are you?" Lautrec asked with a shrug. "You tell me. I stood no guard over you the last two nights. You could have left. You didn't."

"I thought about it," Quelana admitted, unsure why she felt compelled to be honest with the knight. "But I do not believe Abby and I could make it to Izalith on our own."

"I figured as much," Lautrec said.

"Still... why are you telling me these things?"

Lautrec sighed. "The girl and Ben are but children. Patches a fool. Domhnall I do not trust. That leaves you to consult with."

"Consult?" Quelana questioned. "You want my opinion?"

"That's what we do," Lautrec said. "Knights, I mean. We are used to talking amongst each other, taking orders, planning out our battle lines. You need to consult with others. I learned a long time ago that a man left only to his own thoughts is a man plunging towards madness." A piece of rock broke from the roof's barrier, and the knight took it in his hand, tossed it up and down twice, and let it fall to the Burg below. "So... tell me what you think."

"Why should I?" Quelana asked. She still wasn't sure what to make of this conversation. The knight had been mostly quiet, and when he did speak it was to give command, or to berate them for an error. She was wary of some trap he was laying.

"We don't have time to play this game," Lautrec said. "I'm being honest with you, witch, pay me the same courtesy."

Quelana studied him with suspicion once more, but the knight only held her gaze, his face calm and patient. She sighed and looked down to the Burg. "I think... you underestimate what Abby is. She is something special. Do you deny it?"

"No."

Quelana lifted her brow. "No? Then why do you treat her like a child?"

"Because she is. She very well might be the key to salvaging what's left of this broken world, but she'll never get there without a few harsh lessons. Taking her hair was letting her off easy. I only hope the next time she reaches for a handful of it and finds nothing, her thoughts turn to the error you two made last night."

He speaks with such confidence about everything, Quelana thought. But is it true confidence or a well played act? She watched his hands picking at the stone roof barrier. "I also have a thought about Benjamin."

"Go on."

"This morning after I had taught Abby the fireball sorcery, I went back downstairs to fetch her some water. Ben was kneeling on Domhnall's floor. His nose was bleeding, and when I asked him if he was alright, he looked at me as if I were speaking a different language. He crawled back into bed and curled into a ball."

"He's sick," Lautrec said.

"I don't think so," Quelana said. "He had another bout of 'weakness' back at the Firelink Shrine. It came after Abby used her ability to calm the Taurus Demon."

Lautrec turned to her, understanding come across his face.

"And I'd imagine that just now when she used that ability on you, the boy had another bout of weakness."

"They're linked?" Lautrec said, rubbing the stubble on his chin. "Yes... that makes sense."

"They came out of the Asylum together. They look similar. They even share the same age. I believe that the stronger one of them gets... the weaker the other becomes."

"She's killing him," Lautrec said. "Your pyro girl is killing the boy."

"Perhaps. Though, what can anyone do about that? If she can stop this cold... reverse this terrible ailment that has befallen the world..."

"Then what is the life of one, sick, boy?" Lautrec finished for her. The corner of his mouth almost curled into a grin, but he stopped himself. "You sound like me now. What was it you called me yesterday? A cold-hearted fool?"

Quelana ignored him. "He might not die. He might just grow more and more ill."

"Yes, I've heard plenty of cases where a man grows so ill he becomes healthy," Lautrec said sardonically.

"He is no man," Quelana pointed out. "He is a Chosen. They are something different than you."

Lautrec was quiet for a while then, watching the clouds move listlessly through the sky. Finally, he said, "We leave him then. Here with the merchant. We ride ourselves of a sick traveler, and the merchant gets a companion to help him hunt and cook."

"Abandon him?" Quelana said. Like you abandoned your sisters, her thoughts quickly reminded her.

"Not exactly. If he's going to be sick all the time, travel will only make that worse. It's better for everyone if he stays behind. The boy will understand."

"And Abby?"

"What about her? If your asking if we should inform her of this... situation they are in together, I think the clear answer is: absolutely not. She's got too kind of a heart. She'll stop growing stronger intentionally."

Quelana thought on it, and found she had nothing to add. She turned the subject instead. "What will we do at this 'Duke's Archives' you speak of?"

"Dig for more answers."

"And your promise to see me back to Blighttown..." she said quietly, trying not to appear too eager; she didn't want him to know he had such power over her.

Lautrec sighed. "You and that wretched swamp... yes, witch, you'll get back there. Where we are going there are dozens of men, or so Domhnall says. I will talk someone into taking you. Me, myself?" He shook his head. "I'm never going back there. I have two things to accomplish, and neither will lead me to that stinking pit."

Quelana brushed snow from the roof's ledge. "I would hope one of them is to reverse this terrible cold that you just may be responsible for creating."

"It is. Not to save the world... but to have one worth living in when this is all said and done."

Quelana thought for a moment, staring at Lautrec's face. "And the second thing... you're going to kill Anastacia of Astora."

Lautrec looked to his hands resting on the barrier. They balled into fists. "Astora... keh. Yes, witch, I'm going to kill her."

Quelana turned on him so fiercely, snow that had gathered on her cloak flung off and smacked his golden chestplate. "She is the last firekeeper in Lordran if Domhnall spoke true two nights ago! You would kill the last chance Abby or Benjamin have to be reborn from the flames!? Surely not even you can be so bullheaded and-and... selfish!?"

"Killing Ana is the least selfish thing I may ever do," Lautrec said calmly.

Quelana stared at him. "As long as we're being so honest with each other here this morning, you should know... if we make it to her together, I'm going to try and stop you."

Lautrec turned to her, held her angry look for a moment, and grinned. "Fair enough, witch. Fair enough."

Their conversation didn't last much longer after that. Quelana was too angry, and Lautrec seemed eager to move. He went over the plan of his journey with her once more as she quietly listened and nodded. She knew nothing of the lands of Lordran, save for what her previous pupils had told her, and so had nothing to input. Before he departed, he informed her he'd made a bargain with Domhnall, his golden gauntlets for bundles of warm clothing for the four of them, and that she was to abandon her robes. When she protested, he cut her off by informing her that in her current state, their party looked like they were traveling around with a witch and that was a bad thing. Quelana could find no counter to his argument, and so when she joined him downstairs and he tossed her a bundle of clothing, she headed into the private confines of Domhnall's bedroom, stripped her black robes from her body, and pulled on dark breeches and a matching tunic, a heavy overcoat of fur and leather, and a wool scarf that wrapped around her nose and mouth and neck. Finally, she stuck her bare feet into a pair of boots, and frowned at the strange feeling of the ground not beneath her soles. She could not understand why humans would want to rob themselves of such a telling sensation, let alone bury themselves in such heavy, restrictive, clothing.

When she returned to the main dining hall where the rest were gathered in heavy clothing of their own, they all stared at her as if she were some new and rare creature they'd spotted. Abby's thin neck and shaved head poked out of a heavy dark blue coat with white trim around the neck and sleeves, and she smiled upon seeing Quelana. Lautrec and Patches were in dark brown leathers and thick coats of grey and black. Domhnall was sipping at a cup of some steaming hot drink, seated at his table, and Benjamin was in the very back of the room... dressed in the same leathers they'd rescued him from the Asylum in. He was sharpening a dagger, his face dark and brooding as he worked.

"Benjamin..." Quelana said softly, crossing the room to stand beside him.

"I already heard it all from the rest of them," Ben snapped, not taking his eyes from the dagger. "Go on and leave me already. You'll regret it, though. You all will. I'm not some helpless little boy. I could have helped..."

"You are helping," she said. "You're needed here now. Be strong. Don't-"

"Leave me," he cut her off, and after that there was nothing more to be said.

Domhnall saw them back to the ladder they had first climbed to lead them to his home two days earlier. The man was in just as pleasant a mood as he had been that day as well, and he insisted on shaking hands with Lautrec and Patches, and hugging Abby and wishing her luck. When his eyes fell on Quelana, it was clear he felt some apprehension about getting too close to a witch, but after a moment's hesitation he reached out and patted her shoulder. "Aye swimae," he said, grinning and turning to face Lautrec. "Good luck on your travels friends. The boy is in good hands here, I assure you."

"Thank you so much for all your kindness and hospitality, Domhnall of Zena," Abby said, smiled, and stood on her tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. "And, of course, for the pyromancy glove."

Dom laughed. "A sweet girl," he said, then to Lautrec, "Keep her safe, aye?"

Lautrec nodded. "Our paths may cross again someday," he said, taking the first rung of the ladder beneath his boot. "Until then."

"Until then," Domhnall agreed and waved.

The Lower Burg was quiet, cold, and deserted. With the sun still not beginning its descent, Quelana felt good about their chances to make it out of the area before the dogs arrived. Her steps were awkward at first, taking up the tail of the party with Abby at her side. She found these 'boot' things to be heavy and cumbersome to her feet, but the snow underfoot had already made the task so difficult, she barely noticed by the time they'd climbed back to the upper level of the city the extra weight. The coat was worse. With no hood to hide her face from the sky, she felt exposed and lightheaded, and once she nearly fell. Abby was beside her to steady her, though. Quelana composed herself, offered her gratitude, and they walked on.

The upper sect of the Burg was windier, but, thankfully, not much different. As they climbed stairs and lowered themselves from ledges, ducked beneath arched alleyways and followed twisting slopes around crumbled buildings and towers, the sun moved up past its apex and towards its Western descent. Lautrec must have noticed this too, because he began hurrying them on more strictly then before, and when Patches requested a 'piss break', Lautrec's dark look was his only reply. They did not stop.

They came upon a tower that Lautrec referred to as 'Havel's Hole'. Within, they were shielded from the biting winds and the heavy snowfall outside, but Lautrec pressed them to climb the spiraling staircase as quickly as possibly anyway, hopeful to be free of the Burg long before night came. Quelana, slowed by the clothing and boots she was still getting used to, was last to climb the stairs behind Abby. The rest had made it up to a flat section a story higher in the tower, Quelana trailing along behind, when she halted and turned her head back to the bottom of the stairs. Voices? She thought, her heart frozen as stiff as the icy streets outside. I must be imagining things. She stood, listening intently, but no other sound came. I've grown as paranoid as Lautrec, she thought with a shake of her head and moved quickly to catch up.

The tower stairs wound and wound upwards for an eternity, and when Quelana believed her legs were going to collapse beneath her, she reached the top where Lautrec and Abby took hold of her arms and pulled her the last bit of the way. Lautrec allowed them a two minute rest (which Patches used to relieve himself in the rounded corner of the room, whistling a melodic little tune as he did) and then he was pushing them to move once again.

They crossed a long, narrow, walkway whose parapets spilled out on one side to the inner city, and on the other side to a great and sprawling forest. Quelana stared down upon it as they walked, amazed at all the pretty shades of greens and blues buried beneath all the suffocating white of snow.

"It's beautiful," Abby remarked. "What is it?"

"Darkroot Garden," Lautrec explained. "We're not going that way."

"A shame, really," Patches said, shifting the heavy pack on his back and spitting a blade of grass he'd been chewing on from between his teeth. "Hear they have a big, plump, talking cat down that way. Hee hee."

"A talking cat?" Abby echoed, and even with her hair gone-perhaps particularly so-her smile brightened every inch of her face. "I'd love to see that someday."

"'Course, with all these new changes to things... might be a talking dog now, hee," Patches said.

The wind was howling across the parapets, digging icy fingers into their faces and arms, and Quelana twice had to steady herself before she fell. Thankfully, the trip across was brief, and then they were descending a short set of stairs that spilled them out to the mouth of a massive, wide, bridge. Their party walked out to the end of it, and Quelana, once again, was amazed. She had spied the enormous structure from the Burg below-it was hard not too-but up here, actually standing at one end of it was breathtaking. There were no such feats of architecture in Blighttown. Only giant pillars and swamp.

"This will take us to the Parish," Lautrec said, turning to eye the sun above. "And we've made it with time to spare."

"The Gods are good today," Patches added. "They want us to make it. Let's not piss 'em off, ey?"

"On that, we agree," Lautrec said, nodding forward before heading out onto the bridge.

Quelana laid the toe of her boot on the bridge and swallowed. Something so big and so open drove terror into her chest. Abby looked back and, upon seeing her hesitation, returned to take her arm in her own. "It's okay," she said. "I'll walk beside you."

And so she did. That was how Quelana crossed her first ever bridge; clutched tightly to Abby's arm, desperately keeping her eyes on her own boots, and not the sprawling pale blue sky above. She had focused so intently on her own feet, she nearly walked right into Lautrec, who was halted before them. She lifted her head and opened her mouth to question his abrupt stop, but the look on his face answered her question. Voices. You weren't paranoid. "We've been followed?" She asked, though it sounded more like a statement.

"Get to that indentation at the halfway point of the bridge," he commanded. "Patches, help them." He narrowed his eyes over Quelana's shoulder at whomever was approaching. "One of them has a crossbow."

"Oh no," Abby whimpered, but the girl took the knight's command well enough. She was practically dragging Quelana forward, the two of them tripping over their own feet in the knee-high snows. Patches grabbed Abby by the arm when they neared a slight alcove in the bridge with a set of stairs leading down to a lower level and yanked her behind it. Quelana tripped to her hands and knees and crawled the last bit of the way. Patches disappeared below almost immediately. "Where are you going?" Abby pleaded, but the bald man, if he'd heard her at all, offered no reply.

Quelana clambered to her feet, grabbed the edge of the indentation, and stuck her head out to see what was happening. Lautrec stood alone in the middle of the bridge, his golden chest plate held before him in both hands like a mighty shield. Beyond him, at the mouth of the bridge they'd entered on not two minutes earlier, four men were huddled together in dark armors and cloaks, one with a black bag pulled over his head, his arms bound. The fire... Quelana realized with a sense of dread stirring up a knot in her stomach. Lautrec was right. We were using fire at night and these men saw it.

...and now we've led them right to us...