The prison tower was alive with the sounds of whirring cogs and spinning pipes and metal grinding against metal, and as they neared the end of the spiraling staircase, Quelana could smell the metal too; a pungent, heavy, scent that reminded her of the lingering aroma that would follow a sword fight in Blighttown. When her bare feet pressed to the stone floor at the tower's base, Quelana rounded the pillar there with Rickert and Rhea at her side and looked to the room's center.

Logan's machine had been turned on. It loomed over the room, dominating every inch of it, and had become a swirling stack of wood and metal. Cogs spun, their grooved edges catching the edges of those around it, and spinning beside them went the bars and planks and wheels they connected with. A curved piece of brass swooped the outer rim of the machine, and as Quelana stared up at it and the thing spun faster and faster around the construction's core, it began to take on the form of a great golden circle encasing and protecting the intricate web of pieces within. Standing beneath the massive thing, the sounds she'd began hearing at the top of the room had grown almost deafening, so when Rhea tugged at the sleeve of her robe and spoke, the words were lost. Quelana stole one last glance at the machine, pried her eyes away, and led the cleric and Rickert beneath the arched passage at the room's end and through the secret bookshelf entrance that led to Logan's dungeon.

"What in Izalith is that thing!" Rickert asked when the bookshelf had been closed behind them, muffling the machine's noise and leaving them in the dark, quiet, confines of the tunnel within the tower's wall. The young man's eyes found Quelana's own in the darkness, and a flash of chagrin came upon his face. "Oh, uh, sorry. Heh. Forgot we've actually got someone from Izalith in our company."

"Crude," Rhea said with a shake of her head. "Lady Quelana, are you certain we will be safe in here? I didn't see Logan anywhere out there, but that machine... who else would have turned on such a monstrous thing? Surely he is near. Perhaps, well, he heard us coming and went into hiding? Oh, or perhaps he has set us a trap further along!? Or maybe-"

Rickert took her by the arm and started leading her forward. "Maybe we should just go see for ourselves, hm?" A look of disappointment came across Rhea's comely face, but she voiced no protest and allowed herself to be ushered forth.

Quelana turned and led them deeper down the tunnel's winding path, laying her hand against the jagged rock that was the walls and letting it be her guide in the darkness. She wasn't prepared to ignite her flame, at least not before she was certain they were not in any danger being there. "When last I saw that mad machine," she whispered over her shoulder to the followers at her heels, "it was dormant. The sorcerer had set his golems upon it to construct it."

"What does it do?" Rhea's hushed voice questioned.

"That I do not know," Quelana admitted. "But it does seem to be picking up speed. Let us hope that when it reacheswhatever momentum is seeks... it does not bring the castle walls down around us."

To that, neither of them had a reply.

The tunnel opened to the first prison chamber. Quelana led them into the widening cave of rock and moved to the bars of the room's cell. A torch hung ensconced at her side, and in its dim glow she saw the dark figure of a body lying in a shadowed corner. It was not moving, and after a moment's watch, she realized it was not even breathing.

"Who's that?" Rickert asked.

"I believe he was a man named Griggs," Quelana answered. She could still see his face the day she'd first stumbled upon the mad dungeon. It had been dirty and emaciated and so stricken with grief and fear and helplessness behind those bars, she'd had a hard time holding the man's eyes. "He wrote a letter explaining his false imprisonment at Logan's hands," she went on. "It was him who took the fall when the mad sorcerer hunted down and executed Lordran's firekeepers. His tongue had been cut from his mouth."

Rhea grimaced beside her and put her fingers to her lips. "Poor soul..."

"Sounds like Logan to me," Rickert said. "Bastard. If I get my hands on the madman, I'll be sure to chop off more than just his tongue."

Where are you, Abby? Quelana thought. Where has Lautrec taken you? She glanced to the tunnel winding deeper in the dungeon and felt a chill take her spine. The horrors that awaited would only grow more severe as they pressed on. Quelana was turning to tell her followers as much when movement caught her eye within the cell. Her eyes snapped to the corner opposite Griggs, where the torch's light had not carried far enough to illuminate. Something was huddled up in the corner.

"Ready yourselves," Quelana told the cleric and sorcerer at her side, moved to the end of the bars, and sparked a lash of flame from her fingertips.

The prison interior came alive with a fiery glow, and Quelana saw Anastacia of Astora-Carim, she reminded herself-seated on the floor, cradling her knees in the corner. When the light hit her, she squinted and held a hand to shield herself. "D-don't burn me..." her voice pleaded, and it carried such quiet, sad, desperation, Quelana quelled her flame immediately.

"Anastacia!" Rhea shouted, taking the bars imprisoning the firekeeper in her hands. "Are you alright?"

"He's here..." Ana's soft voice replied; she hadn't moved. "My brother... He's alive and he's here."

It was Quelana's turn to grab the bars and lean forth to question her. "Did you see him, Ana? Was he with Abby? What has happened to them?"

From the darkness, a sniffle sounded. "No. I did not see anyone. Logan... he put me in here. He said I... he said I was to be my brother's prize. For... his hard work. He said Lautrec is coming for me."

"No one will harm you Ana," Rhea assured her. "Rickert, get this door open and get her out of there. Quickly!"

Rickert moved to the cell door, pulled a lockpick from within his cloak, and set about working the thin hooks of the thing inside the door's lock.

"Logan was going to reward Lautrec by letting him kill you," Quelana said, thinking on this new information and a feeling of hope stealing across her. "But you still live. That means whatever he wanted from Lautrec... Lautrec did not give him. Abby may yet still live."

"I heard him..." Ana went on in her quiet, shaky, tone. "I heard his voice outside in the tower's main chamber. I haven't heard his voice... since we were children, but I knew it was him. I knew it. Oh, Gods... my baby brother. You told me he was dead." She sobbed in the darkness.

A click popped in the cell's door and Rickert swung the thing back on its rusted hinges, grinning and taking a dramatic bow (to which Rhea quickly slapped his shoulder for). Ana whimpered, and Quelana could hear her boots scraping the rock underfoot in attempt to distance herself from the freedom that awaited.

Quelana, having heard the woman's sad tale of family death and a brother's obsessive vengeance, felt she was the only one who understood the firekeeper, and so it was her who entered the cell first. She crossed in the darkness to Ana, glancing only briefly at Griggs' corpse, and knelt beside the woman. "Ana, your brother will not hurt you. We won't allow it. There may be enough of a decent man in him yet to talk him out of this mad quest of revenge against you. If he was here before in the tower and Logan didn't give you to him, perhaps... perhaps he stands against the sorcerer. Perhaps he stand with us."

"You don't know my brother," Anastacia told her. She swiped a tear from her cheek. "He is relentless. We were barely teenagers when the other cruel boys in Carim... they teased him so fiercely when he was squiring to become a knight. He hardly slept. He trained like... like it was the only thing that mattered in the world. It was a dedication unlike any I'd ever encountered. He wanted to be a knight and he was going to be one at any cost. The others mocked him because they didn't understand his devotion. How could they? A boy is supposed to be happy and free... not a slave to to his own ambition. And now... now it is my life he devotes himself so fervently to taking. And I... I suppose I deserve my death."

"You don't know he will kill you for certain. A man can change," Quelana said.

"A man can," Anastacia admitted. "But I killed the man my brother would have been the night I caused our family to burn in their beds. Now only the knight remains... that cold, stubborn, relentless thing my little brother desired so deeply to become as a boy. Well, become it he has. And it is coming for me."

"Quelana..." Rickert's voice called over her shoulder, and he didn't need further words for her to understand the tone: they had lingered long enough, and it was time to move.

"Come," Quelana said, finding Ana's hand in the darkness and guiding her to her feet. "The castle is under siege and golems run wild within the walls. I will protect you from them, your brother, and anything else that seeks to harm you."

"B-but..." Ana protested.

"The flames are a part of both our lives," Quelana went on. "You, a keeper of fire, and I, a childof it. My sisters and I shared a saying when we were younger. Say it with me now and let the words still your nerves. I am a strong flame, and a strong flame does not waver."

Anastacia hesitated in the dark. When her voice finally came, it was thick with sorrow, but somewhere within, Quelana heard a bit of confidence wishing to rise forth. "I am a strong flame. A strong flame does not waver."

Hand-in-hand they departed the cell. Rhea offered the firekeeper a comforting smile once outside and took her by the arm; Quelana slipping her own away with some effort to press further into the dungeon ahead.

At the next opening in the tunnel, Quelana had forgotten what the cell within housed. When she rounded the rocky corner and faced the prison, her breath turned to ice in her chest and she stumbled backwards into Rickert's arms.

"What is it!?" He whispered.

"Wolf," Quelana told him, gasping for a breath to compose herself. "A very big wolf."

The last time she'd seen the forest wolf that Laurentius had named 'Sif', the beast had doubled in size since leaving the Darkroot Garden and finding itself locked behind the bars in Logan's dungeon. Now the beast had grown far, far, larger - so large, in fact, the barred section of tunnel that housed it could no longer contain the creature's body. Thick tufts of grey and white fur pressed between the bar's gaps, and below, massive paws nearly the size of a grown man's body were struggling to find room for themselves. The wolf's giant head was angled away from them, but upon their entrance, a single, black, eye moved their way and the fur around the beast's snout lifted into a malicious snarl. A single drop of saliva fell from the creature's mouth. It landed in the dirt below, leaving a damp circle big enough to stand in.

"Father eternal," Rhea's hushed exclamation of awe came behind her shoulder.

"Big wolf? Bit of an understatement, aye witch?" Rickert questioned, pulling Rhea closer to him and keeping his widened eyes locked warily on the bars of the cell. "That thing is-"

The wolf growled, and the sound came so deep and bassy, Quelana felt the rocks rumble beneath her feet. It's snarl grew more aggressive and the beast pawed at the dirt underfoot in attempt to maneuver itself towards them. It's sole visible eye darted between the four of them as its head pressed against the bars. The wolf drove its shoulder forward, colliding with the metal that imprisoned it. The bars did not budge, and the beast's anger only swelled further.

"If that thing gets loose..." Rhea began.

"It would be very bad for us," Rickert confirmed. "So let us hope it does not. Those bars look like they'll hold... probably."

Quelana turned away from the monster, thinking that if she held the thing's eye for one moment longer, its teeth would chew through the bars and then through her. "The children should be in the next cell. Come. I do not wish to rile this creature's anger any further."

They moved through the room, keeping their backs to the wall furthest from the beast. The wolf watched them go; its massive tail beating at the wall behind it and a steady stream of drool dripping from its barred fangs.

In the next widened section of tunnel, they came upon the children. The nine little ones that Quelana had found earlier-unlike the wolf-were just as she'd first found them: sitting on the floor of the cell, their limp heads resting upon one another's or their own chests, and their eyes rolled back, a sheet of icy blue in their place.

"Poor things!" Rhea cried as Rickert moved to the door and worked his lockpick into it. "How could any man be capable of such a horrendous act as to imprison innocent children! How dark must a heart be to go without empathy for these sweet little things?"

Quelana opened her mouth to reply, but a faint and distant noise caught her attention. She cocked her head to the side, listening intently, and doing her best to ignore the clinks and clanks of Rickert's lockpicking.

"What is it, Quelana?" Rhea asked.

"We need to hurry," she told the priestess.

"Why?"

"Because the golems are coming."

Both the priestess and Rickert froze in place and looked to her. For one brief moment they appeared perplexed. Then they heard what she'd heard: drumming forth from somewhere nearby, the pounding rhythms of heavy footsteps on the approach. Rickert cursed beneath his breath and went back to work opening the cell. Rhea glanced fearfully down the path they'd come before snapping her head back to the path lying yet untaken before them.

"I can't tell what side it comes from," she said.

Quelana closed her eyes to focus on the sound. A strong flame does not waver, she told herself upon finding the footsteps' source. "That's because they approach from both sides."

Rhea's eyes widened beneath her white hood. "We're trapped...?"

The cell door's handle popped and swung open. Rickert made no display of showmanship this time. He only ran a hand through his hair and reached for the catalyst at his belt.

"Get in," Quelana told them, gesturing to the cell. "Anastacia, here," she called to the firekeeper. Ana stumbled forth as if in a dream, allowed Quelana to take her hand, and was guided into the cell. Rhea followed, pulling her talisman from within her maiden's robes and instructing Ana to gather the children in a tight circle. Quelana turned on Rickert. "Lock them in. Yourself too if you feel you cannot fight."

He pulled the door shut and twisted at the handle til it clicked. "I can fight," he said, though his voice lacked its usual facetious tone and the color had ran from his face. "I can't hurl bloody fireballs out of my palm, but I can cast a spell or two." He faced Rhea. "Just hurry, Ray, alright?"

The priestess had already fallen to her knee and lowered her head reverently; her talisman clutched in her gloved hand and held to her lips as she whispered a prayer. The talisman took on a soft, golden, glow, bathing both herself, Ana, and the children in its warmth. Quelana turned from them to the tunnels. The one at their rear was empty, but when she looked to the one leading back to the wolf, a massive blue and white figure filled the passage and lowered itself to peer back at her.

"Ugly fellow, ain't he?" Rickert asked.

As if in response, the crystal golem's tree trunk arm lashed out and buried itself into the tunnel wall. The monster lumbered forth, its frame so large, its shoulders scraped at the narrow tunnel walls beside it, clawing loose dirt and rocks free to spill behind in the creature's path. Its feet pounded the earth, leaving soft craters in its wake.

Quelana darted to the tunnel's entrance, joined her hands at the wrists, and angled her palms forward. She commanded a pillar of flame to rocket forth, the dark walls coming alive in a fiery glow as the attack twisted its way down the path and into the golem. The creature dropped its shoulder and raised an arm to shield itself. Her fire beat at its hulking body, but did not halt the thing's progress. It came soldiering forward, forcing the wall of flame that lashed its shoulder to grow closer and closer until Quelana could feel her own flames heating her face and threatening to catch fire to her robes. She killed the flame, spun to face Rickert, and shouted, "Fall back!"

Rickert raised his catalyst, sent a blue bolt hurdling in the golem's direction, and spun on his heel to retreat to the next sect of tunnel, Quelana at his heels. They reached it and she took him by the sleeve to halt his footsteps. She spun to see the golem blast its way into the room with the children. The creature turned its head in their direction. The bars would slow it, but certainly not stop it should the thing desire to go after them, so Quelana took a step forward, jabbed two fingers back down the length of the hall, and whipped at the monster with a lash of searing red flame. The attack raked the golem's back, pulling its attention back towards Rickert and herself. It launched itself forward with a display of speed Quelana would not have thought possible of such a massive thing and stuck its arms out to crush her beneath them.

Rickert's arm wrapped her torso and pulled just as the ground underfoot exploded in a thundering wave of destruction; the golem's attack just narrowly missing her feet. Quelana got her footing, turned to give Rickert an appreciative nod of her head, and ushered them deeper down the path.

At the next widening chamber, she spotted the massive stone plating that formed a caged circle in the middle of the room's floor. Rickert stumbled to its edge first, and when he peered down inside it, he nearly fell back on his heels. "Gods!" He snapped. "How many monster's does Logan have down here!?"

Quelana moved to the edge herself. In the dim torchlight that reached the pit's bottom, the dragon/human crossbreed, Priscilla, could be seen, still locked in the chains that held her to the walls. Her head was angled back, a fall of snowy, white, hair draping her furry shoulders (though Quelana could not tell if the fur was the creature's own or simply a cloak) and her eyes were wide and carried profound anger within them beneath the horned line of her brow. A horse's bit was affixed in her mouth, but the creature's fangs could be seen protruding around the edges. They looked just as menacing as the wolf's had.

Quelana pried her eyes from the pit and looked to the far end of the room, where a wooden lever rose from the ground; a line of steel and chain cut into the earth following back to the circular prison. "Distract the golem," she told Rickert as she crossed the room.

"Distract the golem!?" Rickert echoed. "Why? What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to free her."
"Free that thing!?" Rickert snapped, pointing to the hole.

"Yes," Quelana said, wrapping her hands around the lever. "If she's locked up down there, it means she is an enemy of Logan's. The golems belong to him, and there will be more of them soon enough."

"Ah," he replied, though his eyes were still fixed warily on the pit. "Enemy of my enemy is my friend? That sort of thing?" He looked as if he were going to say more, but the tunnel entrance at his side exploded; a shower of rock and dirt raining down around them. The golem's head burrowed through the passage as the creature burst into the chamber. Rickert backpedaled, but his heel clipped the grating of Priscilla's prison and he fell back on his ass. The golem rushed him.

Quelana cooked a fireball in her palm as fast as she could, wrenched back her arm, and hurled it across the short gap. It splashed the golem's side like a drop of liquid fire, pulling the monster's head in her direction. By then, Rickert had clambered to his feet and made his way to the rear passage. He sent an arrow of magic into the golem, and when the thing turned back to him, he waved his arms. "Well come on then! Ugly bastard. Come and get it!"

The golem charged him, and Quelana caught a look of dread on the young man's face before he disappeared into the next tunnel; the creature's feet pounding behind him in pursuit. Quelana returned her focus to the lever. She got hold of it, braced herself, and pulled. As the wooden handle slowly made its way to her chest, she saw chains and metal pieces working against each other underground. The pit's lid came sliding apart, disappearing beneath the rock, and some mechanical action took over the rest of the work. Quelana released the lever and moved to the hole just as the white tip of the crossbreed's hair came rising from within.

The woman-creature's eyes broke the surface, and Quelana saw they were emerald green, like her own, and there was a softness in them that betrayed the thing's snarling fangs and creased brow. The crossbreed rose further still, and Quelana spotted a beautiful silver and gold choker around her slender neck, inlaid with gems and crystals that sparkled in the torchlight. The cream-colored fur that covered her shoulders and chest might have once been a cloak, but it was hugging her frame so tightly, perhaps it had become part of her. Her hands were those of a simple woman's: no claws protruding from the tips; no hooves or scales. Her cloak ended in a cascade of furry layers around her pale legs. Beneath, her feet were bare and also without claws. Something half-buried in the dirt shined beside them.

She is no giant, Quelana thought, examining the exotic creature chained before her. She'd heard her pupils talk of a beast that stood fifteen feet high, but if it those legends once held truth, they certainly did not anymore. The creature was, perhaps, seven feet; not much bigger than Black Iron Tarkus.

A strong flame does not waver. Quelana made herself step forward until she was nearly swallowed in the crossbreed's shadow. The woman-beast stared down at her, her emerald eyes narrowed shrewdly, her pointed fangs working at the bit that silenced her. Quelana raised her arm to allow her cloak to fall from her wrist. She commanded her flames to snap at the air between them. "I mean you no harm, creature, but I assure you I can harm you. Lower yourself to me and I'll remove that muzzle from your mouth."

Priscilla's gaze held on Quelana's hand, the thing's eyes widening with, perhaps, curiosity, before she lowered her head. Quelana reached around behind the woman, digging her hands beneath the soft layers of her hair and finding the bit's straps. She worked them loose and gently pried the bar from the creature's mouth. Priscilla's face was soft-featured, almost childlike, but an anger stole across it then that robbed it of its innocence. "That thing has kept my suffering in silence for longer than I can remember," she said, and Quelana was surprised at how soft and tender the creature's voice was. "Thou hast my gratitude, but... may I asketh of you... you are no woman, are you?"

"No," Quelana told her.

"Flames rising from flesh..." Priscilla went on, her eyes moving to Quelana's hand again. "Thou art a daughter of the Great Witch Izalith!"

"Yes."

"Gods be good!" Priscilla cheered. "I beg of thee, witch, release me from my chains! Release me so that I may set forth and destroy the great plague of Lordran!"

Quelana's brow lifted. "You know of the hollows?"

"Hollows? No, kind witch. I speak of the humans."

"Humans?" Quelana echoed.

Priscilla nodded. "Those that share their origins with the vile man who imprisoned me in the first place. The evil and mad sorcerer. Thou hast taken my blood... and thou hast kept me locked away in this hole for..." Her voice cracked and Quelana thought the creature might actually spill tears from its eyes. Priscilla took a breath, however, composed herself, and went on. "Release me, witch. I begeth of thee."

"Logan," Quelana said. "Logan did this to you. Not all humans share his madness or his cruelty."

"Yet all humans carry within them the desire to be just as cruel and mad."

"And there are many of those who fight that desire," Quelana went on. "That is what makes humans so special. They choose." She had thought of it much in her time in Blighttown. Her thoughts had been not dissimilar from the crossbreed's at first, but as time passed and her pupils came and went, Quelana came to reserve a place in her heart for the beings; at least the descent ones among them. "Listen to me. If I release you, you must swear to me you will not strike out against the humans I am in the company of. They are... friends."

Somewhere from the direction Rickert had led the golem, the sound of stone cracking boomed and the rock walls of the chamber shook. Priscilla craned her neck back to glance over her shoulder. When her eyes returned to Quelana's, there was anger within them once again. "Thou needeth my help. Free me and thou shall have it."

"Swear it," Quelana insisted, taking the crossbreed's shackled wrist in her hands and laying her fingers beneath the release mechanism. "Swear you will not hurt them or I'll send you back into your hole."

Priscilla's fangs chewed gently on her lip as she mulled the proposition over. "Alright, Daughter of Chaos. I swear it."

Quelana popped the manacle loose.

Rickert came barreling back into the chamber and Quelana saw he carried in his hands now only half the catalyst he'd left with. The young man came skidding to halt in the dirt underfoot upon glimpsing Priscilla towering over him. The crossbreed snarled at him and Rickert stumbled back.

"You swore to me," Quelana reminded her.

Priscilla took a breath to calm herself. "Thou speak it true. What would thou have me do?"

Quelana knelt, brushed her hand across the dirt floor, and uncovered the shining item beneath that had caught her attention earlier. It was the hooked and curved blade of a great scythe, the handle of which ran the entire length of the pit. Priscilla spotted it too then and reached for the weapon immediately. "He left it here..." She whispered, turning the scythe over in her hands. "Because he thought it was part of me. Thought it... would bestow him with more of my life's essence." She looked to Quelana. "Would thou have me use it?"

Quelana nodded. "There," she said, pointing to the hulking form of the crystal golem as it shouldered its way down the tunnel towards them. "Destroy that thing. It is Logan's creature."

"Logan..." Priscilla whispered, the word thick with contempt. She raised the scythe and stepped forward to block the path of the approaching monster. When it neared, the crossbreed roared: a sound that was, appropriately, both human and inhuman; a woman's shout and a dragon's growl coalescing to one, terrifying, warcry. The golem slowed, so Priscilla moved to meet it. She dashed forth, scythe raised high above her fall of snowy hair, and brought the blade down atop the monster with another roar.

Its arm fell away from its body, the scythe slicing it cleanly free. The creature had only a brief moment to look at its disfigurement: its head came off next. The chunk of crystal slapped the wall beside it, fell to the ground, and rolled to a halt near the crossbreed's feet. Its body collapsed shortly after.

"Gods..." Rickert muttered.

Priscilla spun furiously on him, scythe raised to her shoulder.

Quelana stepped between them and ignited her flame.

Priscilla's eyes fell to her's, and Quelana watched some of the hate slowly drain from them. "As thou commands," she said, lowering the scythe.

"Come," Quelana said. "There are others we must yet protect."

When they returned to the previous chamber, the children had not yet been freed from whatever spell enslaved their minds. Rhea was fallen on the floor of the cell, Anastacia at her side keeping hold of the priestess to prevent her from collapsing entirely.

"Ray!" Rickert shouted.

"She is okay," Ana told him. "Only exhausted. She has tried four different miracles. None of them had any effect on the children. She thinks-" Ana stopped speaking and her eyes drifted over Quelana's shoulders. Her mouth fell agape.

Priscilla's towering shadow fell to the floor of the cell. Quelana didn't bother turning around. "This is Priscilla. She won't harm us. Rhea, how many more miracles do you have prepared to try?"

Rhea, still too winded to speak apparently, lifted a shaky hand above her and held two fingers in the air.

"Alright. Try them as soon as you are able."

"Quelana," Rickert called to her, and when she looked, found him staring down the tunnel across from them where two new golems had appeared huddled together in the passage.

Quelana glanced back at Priscilla. The crossbreed nodded her comprehension, took up her scythe, and moved to block their advance. Rickert shuffled out of her way, keeping a wary eye on the edge of the scythe's blade. Her seven-foot figure filled the tunnel, and a fury tail the same cream color as her cloak lashed out behind the crossbreed as she stalked forth.

thump - thump -thump

Quelana looked to the other tunnel. Three more golems were lumbering down the path, shoulders dragging alongside the walls and kicking up a cloud of dirt around them.

"Why!?" Rickert shouted. "Why are they all converging on us now? Why here?"

"Perhaps they seek to protect Logan's machine," Quelana suggested, moving to the tunnel and preparing her flame to intercept the golems' charge.

"We're not pissing around with his damn machine, though," Rickert said, slamming his body to the wall across from her and peeking around it.

Behind them, Priscilla cried out. This time, the sound did not carry the anger and power her roar had earlier. It carried only pain. Quelana turned to see the crossbreed had slashed into one of the golems' chests, but the blade had caught halfway through and gotten stuck. The hybrid was backpedaling in retreat, twisting at the long handle of her scythe to try and wrestle it loose as the creatures moved in to swarm her.

"They're coming," Rickert said, pulling her focus back to the three creatures barreling down the tunnel at them.

Quelana cupped her hand at her waist and commanded a swirl of flame to begin cooking into a marble; one that would grow and swell until it became a great chaos fireball: her most devastating spell. The golems, perhaps sensing a moment of weakness, picked up their pace. Their footsteps were pounding the ground in such quick rhythm, it was as if the walls themselves had come alive to bury them in its belly. Behind her shoulder, she heard Priscilla cry out again as something rumbled and cracked. She held her focus on the fire in her hand, commanding it to gather heat and energy, and when the first golem neared, she swung out to the tunnel and drove her hand forward.

The attack smothered the creature in a smoldering fist of death; a vibrant pool of searing lava bubbling up beneath the thing's feet. It drummed its arms wildly into the walls at its side, but by then the lava had cooked the bottom of its legs clean away. The golem shrunk again when its knees melted. Then again as it became simply a torso, then a chest, and finally - only a head.

Then that too was lost in the pool of orange chaos.

The other golems watched the attack simmer, holding their ground cautiously.

"The lava won't last long," Quelana said. "And I can't do that again. Not for a good while."

"The dragon-woman, er, thing is losing ground quick," Rickert said. "She's got no weapon."

Quelana looked over her shoulder and saw he had the right of it: Priscilla was backed up nearly to the chamber again. Her eyes met Rickert's across the gap between them.

He sighed. "It's over..."

The lava residue of her spell faded into the earth. The golems pressed their attack.

Quelana closed her eyes and searched within herself. Her inner flame was still recovering from her expenditure of energy. "Open the cell," she told Rickert. "We'll make our last stand within it." He nodded, rushed across the room to the cell, and she joined him. "Priscilla!" She called to the crossbreed. "Come! Quickly!"

Priscilla leapt back on her heels as one of the golems took a swing at her. She twisted around in the tunnel-arduously, due to her size-and scurried back to join them as the golem's second attack shattered apart the wall. Rickert worked the cell door open and the three of them poured inside. He spun back, slammed it shut, and poked his arm through the bars to twist the handle and lock them in just as the four golems converged through the tunnels at either end of the room.

"I only wanted to see his face once more," Anastacia said, her eyes flicking hopelessly between the monsters that stalked forth from the darkness. "My little brother... I wanted to see the face he'd grown into." Her lip quivered and her eyes grew rheumy.

"A strong flame does not waver," Quelana told her, seating herself beside the firekeeper and taking her hand. "Say it, Anastacia. Say it now," she told her, though whether she wanted to hear the words for Ana's benefit or her own, she could not say.

"A s-strong flame..." Ana managed before breaking into a sob.

"Ray," Rickert whispered, kneeling beside the priestess and laying his hand on her shoulder. "Ray, I'm a fool for not telling you sooner." He looked to the golems, their bodies now chocked the front of the cell so thickly, the torchlight ensconced behind them was lost in a blanket of darkness. "I love you, Ray. You're far too pretty and sweet for a failed blacksmith and a half-assed sorcerer like myself, but... I love you anyway."

If the cleric heard his confession, she showed no response. Her eyes were closed and her talisman was still at her lips as she whispered a prayer in quiet determination. Please, Quelana could hear escape her lips every now and again. Please.

Priscilla backed into the corner, raised her lips to reveal barred fangs, and growled like a cat trying to fend off a predator.

The golems cluttered around the cell. The one nearest to the center threw its massive arm forward and smashed one of the bars keeping them at bay. The iron thing bowed and bent but did not break, and so the monster swung again, and this time, the creature at its side joined in. The bar caved in further. The two golems at the ends began throwing their shoulders forward, slamming the bars repeatedly, making more and more progress towards destroying the things entirely. Two bars near the center had bowed outwards far enough for one of the things to get its arm through. It started violently thrashing its elbow back and forth, splitting them apart further and further, and growing closer and closer to clawing its way in.

Quelana mustered up enough energy to send a shot of flame at the monsters, but the attack was weak and did next to nothing to slow their assault.

"Ray!" Rickert shouted, shaking the woman's shoulder. "Don't let me die without knowing how you feel!"

"S-strong f-flames d-don't..." Anastacia croaked, swiping at her cheeks.

A bar snapped. The middle golem clambered through.

The others flooded the hole to join it.

Their shadows drowned them all, their arms lifted over their heads, they-

-froze.

Quelana's heart seemed frozen with them. Her hand was cupped into a ball, but no flame was coming. Beside her, Anastacia had an iron grip on her arm. Priscilla's growl had gone silent in her corner. Rickert was hunched protectively over Rhea, and Rhea-

"Rhea!" Quelana shouted.

A tear rolled the cleric's cheek. Her eyes were opened. A hand, small and tender not her own, reached to her face and wiped at it. A child rose to stand at eye level with her. Then another, and another, and another.

"Mom? Where's Mom?" One of them croaked.

"What's going on... Dad!?" Another joined in.

One by one, Quelana watched as all nine of them rose around the priestess like blooming flowers, and as the children rose, the golems fell.

Their massive bodies lumbered over like fallen trees atop one another, sending a row of heavy thumps back towards the bars, and when the final thump sounded against the earth, Quelana knew: the crystal golems were no more.

"Logan..." Quelana said, understanding dawning upon her. "He must have... must have found some way to link the children's souls to the golems'. The spell... it was keeping them comatose so he could work the creatures like puppets through the children."

Rhea's joy lined ever inch of her face as she looked from child to child. "They're okay," she said, swiping at a tear. "They're... they're fine!"

"Because of your miracle," Rickert pointed out. "Me? I knew you had it. Never doubted you for a second." When Rhea turned her smile on him he sighed. "Well... maybe just for one second there."

They cleared out. Rhea soothed the crying children with another miracle while Rickert rounded up the older, braver, ones. When the nine had been joined, Anastacia led them climbing out over the fallen golems. To Quelana's amazement, the children made a game of it, laughing and slapping at the dead monsters that had nearly ended them all as they climbed. Quelana followed behind them, and Priscilla came trailing along last. Rhea was readying to lead them back to her hidden path so they could join the rest of the castle in defense when Priscilla halted them.

"Would thou allow me to speak with the witch alone?" She asked.

Rickert, Rhea, and Anastacia looked to Quelana, who gave them a nod. They returned it and led the children forward, disappearing around the bend in the tunnel.

When they were alone, Priscilla lowered herself to a knee so their eyes were more evenly matched. "What is happening above?"

"War," Quelana told her. "An army of hollow soldiers march from Anor Londo. They mean to destroy us."

The crossbreed nodded. "I will not fight alongside humans," she confessed. "When I find open sky, I will flee."

"Open sky? How-"

Behind the crossbreed's shoulders, her snow hair lifted and began breaking apart. A pair of white and leathery wings spread from beneath the massive fall of fur that cloaked her back.

"Wings?" Quelana said, a feeling of awe stirring in the pit of her stomach. "You can fly?"

Priscilla nodded. "I can and I am. I have no love for humans, witch of Izalith. I despise the half of me that shares blood with them. I will leave this place."

Quelana nodded. "I... understand, I suppose. If you take these tunnels back that way, they will spill out to the gardens and the Crystal Caves beyond. You can escape without risking a single foe spotting you. I... we will miss having an ally as powerful as yourself, but your life is not mine to command."

"This is good, but, witch, I am not telling you this for no reason," Priscilla went on. "I have some strength left in me. I can take you with me."

"Me?" Quelana questioned. "I-"

"Have no place here," Priscilla interjected. "These are not your kind. They are humans. They are savage. And even if they count you as one amongst them now, it will not be long before they seek to destroy or enslave you, as humans do with all things they fear or do not understand."

"What did Logan do to you to set such a burning hatred in your heart for mankind?"

The crossbreed growled and lifted her arm. It was heavily bandaged and spotted with dry, red, patches. "The man took my blood. He drank it before me as I stood chained as his prisoner. He mixed it with his own blood, with potions, with powders. He consumed it in every way he could. And every time he did so... he made me watch."

Quelana grimaced. "Why would any man do such a thing?"

"The sorcerer has grown obsessed with the notion of immortality. While I was chained and silenced for countless days as his prisoner, I was forced to his mad ramblings. He would read for hours and then launch into conversations with himself. He believes he can become part dragon by consuming my blood. He seeks the dragon's immortality for himself."

"That's ridiculous."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. I know he spend many hours plotting to steal my father's crystal for himself."

"Your father?" Quelana questioned.

"Most know him as Seath the Scaleless, betrayer of dragons," Priscilla explained. "He was stripped of his scales for what he did to his kind, yet even without their power, he found immortality... in the form of the Primordial Crystal. The very crystal that the mad sorcerer, Logan, now possesses."

Quelana rubbed at her cheek, mulling over the crossbreed's tale. "So with dragon's blood and the crystal in his possession... you think it may actually be possible he's found a way to make himself an immortal?"

"Who knows what madness lies in a man's heart," Priscilla said with a grimace. "Man is a plague. A plague that stops at nothing till it gets what it wants. Please, witch. You did me a great kindness. Come with me. Fly free from this place and I will take you anywhere you desire."

The swamps of Blighttown flashed before her mind's eye. When Lautrec had come and stolen her away from her home in ropes, she'd wanted nothing more in the first few days of her captivity then to return. It was safe in Blighttown. It was quiet. She knew every inch of it; loved every inch of it.

"Leave the humans to die," Priscilla pleaded. "They've earned their fate! This is the Gods' judgement upon them for their wickedness. Don't punish yourself alongside them."

"The Chosen..." Quelana said. "The Chosen Undead. She's here. Abby, her name is. She's young, brown hair cut short, a pretty face and pretty blue eyes. She is... a sweet thing, but... her mind has been tampered with. Still, she is a hope. Perhaps the only hope this world has to go on."

Priscilla did not look impressed. "What more is a Chosen then another man or woman with some fancy gift to rise from flame? They are just as cruel and greedy as the rest of their kind. Lordran does not need a Chosen hero. It needs to be cleansed."

Quelana squinted. "You're talking about the end of humanity."

"And the beginning of a new age in Lordran, free from those monsters!" Priscilla pleaded. "I'm leaving, witch. Come with me. I won't ask you again."

Quelana turned to the tunnel the others had disappeared through. She thought of Abby, but Abby was no friend of her's any longer. Whatever happened to her mind turned the girl against her. As much sadness as it brought upon her heart, it was true. She thought of Lautrec and Anastacia, but their situation was so mad and tragic, it could only end in misery for both of them. She thought of Laurentius and Tarkus and Rickert and Rhea. They had befriended her quickly enough, but they were dragon-worshipers. They'd march her off to the Great Hollow to be judged by some eternal beast below should they somehow survive the hollow's siege. She thought of Solaire and the way he'd cast lightning from his bare hand as she cast flame from her own. The knight, for whatever reason, felt important to her.

"Quelana," Priscilla's voice cut into her thoughts, and when she looked, the crossbreed had her hand extended. "Leave them to their fate. Leave them and live."

The word 'leave' is so much prettier than the word 'abandon', she thought. But they mean the same thing. I abandoned my sisters and my mother to the chaos that took them and I carry the regret of it every day.

She glanced back at the tunnel once more. Distantly, she could hear shouting and rumbling: the sounds of war stealing across the castle more and more with every passing moment. Those left alive would almost certainly fight and die within the keep, that much was now clear, but they would die as warriors, courageous and brave and true. There seemed to be only one question left worth asking herself: Does your heart still hold enough love for the humans to die amongst them; as one of them. Do you believe in them?

She thought on it, and when she found the answer, she made her decision.