The sound of hurried footsteps grew louder, and then they paused abruptly just outside my father's cell.

"Oh, Titans …" Destiny's soft voice reached my ears. "Alexandra … is that-"

"It's my father," I whispered. "He's dead."

"I'm … I'm so sorry." I heard as my best friend shifted uncomfortably, but she didn't speak again. I stared blankly at my dad's body, gripping his hand with all my strength as if trying to hold on to his memory. What few tears I had left rolled down my cheeks.

"What's the point?" I asked in a low voice.

"Of what?"

"This! All of this! Why are we doing this? We're not accomplishing anything, Destiny! More people are going to get hurt if we keep going!"

"Hey, don't you start with that attitude!" She snapped, striding into the cell and kneeling beside me. "Look at me, Alexandra Firesong." When I didn't move, the Theurgist grabbed my shoulder and wrenched me around so I was facing her. "You knew going into this that it would be dangerous, didn't you?" I shrugged.

"I guess, but-"

"No! No buts! I'm not finished! This is a dangerous place, Alex! People were bound to get hurt on this quest, but it's not as though you dragged us here, kicking and screaming! Everyone in this group is here because we want to be here, and we willingly volunteered our lives to help you stop Malistaire. Now, don't start talking about how more people are going to die and get hurt if we go on! It's true, we are going to get hurt, but a heck of a lot more people are gonna get hurt if Malistaire accomplishes his goal!" I was silent. I glanced back at my father's body.

"He wasn't a part of this quest."

"But he chose to take your place. He chose to save you rather than save himself," Destiny told me, more gently this time. "In the end, he tried to make up for his mistakes. He only wanted your forgiveness, Alex, but you gave him more. You told him that you loved him, and that made it worth it in the end."

"How do you know?" I asked quietly. "What if he's up in the Titan world right now, looking down on me and wishing he'd stayed alive and I had died?"

"Because no one would die for an act, Alex. He really did love you; otherwise, he would have had no reason to save your life." She smiled sadly at me. "So, what's next? Are you going to sit here and mourn your father, or are you going to go save someone else's life? Malistaire has to be stopped, and we aren't gonna leave without you." She stood and held out a hand to me. "Coming?" Slowly, slowly, I reached up and took her hand. I stood.

"You're right. Thanks, Destiny." I gave her a small, wobbly smile as I headed out of the cell. I glanced back at my dad's body once more before I continued down the hallway.

-V-

Despite my best friend's reassuring words, I felt as though the entire weight of the world was pressing down on my shoulders at that moment. An overwhelming sense of tiredness settled over me, and I had the urge to simply sit down and not move again. I wanted to be back in my home nine years ago. I wanted to go back to the days where my mother would tell me stories until I got sleepy and then sing a lullaby as she left and closed the door. I wanted to relive the times when I didn't have a single worry in the world, when I could feel safe and happy all the time. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option, and so I kept going.

The group was waiting for me in front of a narrow staircase. Moira was leaning up against the wall. She frowned as I stepped into view.

"You certainly took long enough," she scoffed.

"Moira …" Destiny's tone was warning, and as I glanced over at her, I saw as she shook her head slightly at the other Necromancer.

"Whatever. Let's get going. The next part of our lovely little tour is the trek to the top of the Great Spire. This section boasts hordes of Undead- yes, Glasses Girl, hordes- so please stick to the paths, and remember: no flash photography!" Her tone was dripping with sarcasm, but I couldn't think of a nasty reply at the moment, so I settled for a halfhearted glare.

"Lady Moira, what's going on?" A quiet, masculine voice asked. The albino girl glanced towards the source: a pale boy with pure white hair, dressed simply in loose white robes. He looked around at my friends and I. His face seemed somewhat familiar …

"Y-you!" Heather gasped, pointing to the boy with a shaky hand. "You w-were in the alley in M-marleybone!" The boy frowned slightly, and he nodded.

"I was. You must be Alexandra Firesong-" he glanced at me, "-and her friends." His pale blue eyes passed over each of my friends.

"Yeah … we are. Who are you?" Evan asked suspiciously.

"Arthas-" he was cut off by a look from Moira.

"Arthas …" The Pyromancer waited for him to continue.

"Just Arthas," he said firmly.

"Ah. So … what's he doing here?" Evan asked, turning to Moira.

"You can trust him." The other Necromancer refused to say another word on the subject.

-V-

The interior of the Great Spire was solid red rock, and I was fairly certain that there was little to no air circulation. It had to be around ninety degrees or higher. Torches provided the only light, so the wide cavern was dim as well as smoky. Gruesome images of battles decorated the walls, and the floor had what looked like bones fitted into the cracks. As Moira had warned, there were dozens of Undead- maybe even hundreds. Ghouls and skeletons and specters roamed the pathways freely, and occasionally a ghost or a wraith would drift through the wall and startle us. The strange part was that none of them attacked us.

"Moira," I hissed. "Why aren't the Undead fighting? We're walking straight into their territory!"

"They wouldn't dare attack me. I was the one who raised most of them from the dead," she replied dismissively. I stared at her.

"You raised them, and you say that like it's nothing! Doing something like resurrection is … it's … that kind of Necromancy is so advanced that I don't think Malistaire could do it!"

"You'd be surprised how easy it is if you've got the right teacher." We continued in silence through the caverns of the Great Spire. The moans and shrieks of the Undead echoed in the high-roofed tunnels, and I could sense the uneasiness they were bringing to the rest of the group. Even with my years of experience in dealing with Undead, I had never heard anything quite like what I heard in the Great Spire.

"Are we nearly out?" Heather whispered to me. I glanced over at her and realized that the Conjurer was absolutely terrified. She ducked as a ghost sailed past us, and then stared at me fearfully.

"Yeah. The last staircase is right ahead. The drakes are kept in a pen at the top, and we'll ride them to the Crown of Fire," Moira informed us.

"Wait … we have to ride drakes?" Heather seemed on the verge of passing out from fear. "I thought they killed people!"

"Just the weak ones. Once they're trained, drakes are perfect for giving rides to the Crown of Fire. I mean, if you want to try riding your little pony across a river of hot magma, feel free," the Necromancer added sarcastically, "…although I wouldn't suggest it. Hot magma is … you know … hot." She stalked ahead to the wide staircase.

A/N: Thanks to anyone who reviewed the last chapter! :)Here's the next preview for The Journey of Fire's Song. :) Note: This preview is not directly after the last one. It is a completely separate piece of the story.

I began choking on my water, and I quickly spat it back into the glass.

"He asked you WHAT?" My friend beamed.

"Isn't it so sweet?"

"No, it's not sweet! That's disgusting! How could you trust that pig?"

"Come on, Alex, don't be like that! How many times do I need to tell you that he's changed?" I frowned.

"Somehow, I highly doubt that."