There was fire; there was carnage; there was death.

Someone was screaming. Was it him; was it her? Or was it even human at all?

Do not die. Do not die…! Do not die!

She hit the ground. Someone, or something laughed, but he ran forward. A feral screech rang in his ears, consuming his senses and addling him. He fell to his knees in front of her, but when he extended his hand, she began to sink into her own pool of blood, endlessly swelling from the vacant cavity where her heart used to be.

Do not die!

His hands dove in after her, fingers scrabbling uselessly at her decaying flesh as the last vestiges of life faded from her eyes. Her skin peeled against the icy cocoon of his armor as she descended below the surface. She continued to drift downward, and he leaned forward after her, until the bloody ocean threatened to swallow him as well.

Just as quickly as he had found her, he had lost her.

Alvira!

Someone cackled loudly, and he spasmed until the dream faded. His bloodshot eyes flitted nervously around each dark corner of the Nexus, searching frantically for his companion. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, causing him to nearly throw himself onto his stomach as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. Though he was chilled to the bone, he was doused in sweat. His chest surged harshly, his overwrought, shallow breaths not nearly enough to fill his lungs. He choked, and someone laughed again. He craned his neck in the direction of the taunting voice, unsure whether he should be afraid or furious.

"Did you know you talk in your sleep? I haven't laughed this hard in quite some time!"

Ostrava chose the latter. "You are a cruel man – or what remains of one." He added that last bit to verbally strike back at the nameless man, though he showed no sign of taking offense. He only bared his teeth in a hollow, mirthless smile. Ostrava snorted, leaving the still snickering man to seek more pleasant company.

When Ostrava rounded the corner, he spotted Alvira immediately, head bowed, and hands clasped tightly together. Her lips were moving, though he was too far away to make out what she was saying. Sabrathan was watching her astutely, face illuminated by one lone candle that flickered a threat to fade at any moment.

He watched, too, from a safe distance. In this moment, Alvira's face was serene, peaceful, and her demeanor likewise relaxed. He hadn't truly realized how tense and wound-up her normal stature was until he viewed her in this state, and his own stance deflated from that revelation. She wore all of these things normally like a cloak of stoicism, but in reality, her stress had to be immense. She was quite literally carrying the weight of the world upon her dainty shoulders.

Perhaps the best thing he could do for her right now was to leave her alone.

He turned, only pausing when she called out to him. "Ostrava!"

Both Alvira and Sabrathan were looking to him now, but Ostrava only had eyes for her, a resplendent smile upon her face and eyes equally as bright. She waved to him excitedly, then gestured him to her. He could not refuse her, legs moving before the thought even registered in his mind to go to her.

She was different now, happier, and it showed all the more when she tugged him down by the arm and wrapped him up in a tight embrace.

It would have been nice, only, he groaned at the added pressure on his aching ribs. Alvira quickly let him go, her face scrunching up in concern. The expression hit him like a punch to the gut, like he had robbed her of her contentment.

God, he ruined everything.

"I am okay," he lied even as her eyes raked over his armored body, uselessly assessing it for injuries. The dents, slashes, and burn marks certainly whispered of what lied beneath, but ultimately kept their secrets to themselves.

Alvira's eyes narrowed, and she gave him a look that told him she wasn't buying the ruse. "Don't try to fool me," she scolded. "It's a bad lie, anyway; I was there to watch you sustain all of your injuries." Ostrava rubbed the back of his head, caught like a child with his hand in the cookie jar.

"'M' sorry," he muttered, looking away from her calculating emerald orbs.

"Take off your armor," she instructed suddenly.

Ostrava sputtered and gave her an incredulous look, like he hadn't quite heard her right. "Excuse me?"

"Take off your armor," she repeated, rising as if to help him with the many clasps and straps. He shirked away from her hands, backing up with his own hands raised defensively. Sabrathan flashed them an amused smile in the background, causing Ostrava's cheeks to burn. He knew what she meant by it, but really-

"This is indecent," he finished aloud. Alvira tilted her head to the side.

"I mean to heal you," she offered mildly. "I won't look at you beyond what's necessary if that's your aversion, or-"

"Th-that is quite all right," Ostrava stuttered, backpedaling faster. He wasn't so juvenile as to be embarrassed by his body, he was a fully grown man, but under no circumstances could he let anybody else see his face. It was bad enough that he had revealed himself to Alvira. He had dodged a metaphorical arrow since she hadn't recognized him, possibly because she was a foreigner, but it was also quite dark and could have been a fluke; and even if it wasn't, he was not about to take that same chance with the priest.

So even if he was reluctant to have his body examined by this woman, he would let them believe that was the main reason for his hesitancy, simply because that was the safest option.

"It is not that serious," he tried again as Alvira advanced upon him. He gulped. She wasn't going to back down from this.

Her hand lunged forward like a striking snake, grabbing onto his shoulder pauldron, and pulling him closer with strength he had not expected. He nearly fell forward, though she braced him just as easily.

"Ostrava," she warned.

Ostrava looked down at her helplessly. He resisted, trying to wriggle from her hold, but her strength was outright. She gripped him and held him forcefully in place.

"I…"

Alvira quirked her brow, challenging him to keep trying to get away.

He conceded. "Fine, but under one condition," he sighed.

"And that is…?"

"The helmet stays on."

Alvira glared at him now. "Absolutely not; I need to see the full extent of your injuries."

"If you try to remove the helmet, I will fight against you." His tone was even, brooking no argument. Alvira's eyes went round as saucers.

"Ostrava, are you serious?"

"Gravely."

Now it was Alvira's turn to sigh. He knew he had her now; her intent was to heal him, not to injure him further. Ostrava had no doubt that she could force him, easily, but just because she could didn't mean she would. He was using her good will against her.

It was a dirty tactic, but a necessary one.

Alvira clenched her jaw and ground her teeth in frustration. "I'm just trying to help you."

"I know. And I am sorry." The apology was sincere, and she relented. "I do not mean to be this way, but it is important to me. Please understand."

Her face softened, though her grip on him tightened. She was clearly at odds, but he had shoved her into a corner.

"Is it because I'm a woman?"

The question took him aback, and his mouth moved uselessly, trying to convey a reply. A feeble "What?" was all he could muster.

Her hand fell limply back to her side. Hurt was etched into her visage. "Shall I go so Sabrathan can tend to you?" Alvira's tone was tight, guarded. Her fists clenched as she awaited his response. Ostrava was now thoroughly lost.

"I do not mind if it is you," he said quietly. She still seemed upset, but her fingers unfurled, and her shoulders lowered slightly.

What is this about?

"Sit," she commanded, even as she pulled him down with enough power that he could not reasonably resist it. He was plopped on the ground with a loud "Oof!" as Alvira worked on the buckles of his breastplate. Ostrava faced away from her, spine bent at an angle that surely his elders would have disapproved of, 'A posture unbecoming of a man of his status,' he can hear them say. He rolled his eyes, returning from the confines of his mind only when he felt his armor give and fall away. Neither he nor Alvira said a word as she toiled with the straps of his gambeson.

Soon that, too, was removed. He exhaled softly at the reduced weight on his nagging shoulders, only to hiss when Alvira pressed her fingers against his bruised ribcage.

She said something under her breath, extrinsic words that he could not understand, and then there came a sudden, unimaginable heat. He flinched, pulling away on instinct, but Alvira's superior strength kept him once more in place. Her hand moved swiftly along his body, and then-

The pain dissipated.

"What did you do…?" he asked in bewilderment, studying his unmarked flesh. Even the scars settling into his skin had paled.

"I healed you," was the only clarification she offered as her form retreated. Ostrava found that he missed the subtle heat at his back, its presence a strange but welcome comfort.

"Well, yes, but-"

"Get some rest, Ostrava. I can tell you've had little sleep." Ostrava frowned, momentarily remembering the nightmare he'd awoken from. She was right: he was exhausted, but he was reluctant to leave on such a dreary note. He shifted, ready to argue, only to be met with her shining smile.

The ice thawed from his limbs. Even though she couldn't see it, he smiled, too.

"As you say."

Sabrathan listened to them distantly, grinning to himself as he pretended to read the old tome he'd studied countless times before.

After a day's rest, Ostrava felt well enough to continue their descent into Stonefang. As Alvira touched the second archstone, the warm glow of the many candles lighting the Nexus faded to black. The familiar sounds of Stonefang, of pickaxes striking stone and hammers tinkering delicately against metal, filled her ears; the smell of cinder and iron likewise filling her nostrils. Barely an inch of earth could be seen amidst of the glow of her augite, but the resolve to carry on was absolute. She wrung the handle of her halberd in her hands to keep her nervousness at bay, then took the first step forward into the darkness. Ostrava followed behind her with his hand on her back, eyes skittering back and forth anxiously in search of unseen enemies. As they advanced, the sounds of mining labor became more distant until it could barely be discerned from the clanking of their armor. Eventually, the pair came to a deep mining shaft in which a dim light could be seen leaking onto the ground, barely illuminating the bottom. They skirted the edge slowly and cautiously, not wanting to lose sight of the pit should they accidentally stumble into it.

Though, in the end, their efforts were for naught, as they had unknowingly caught the attention of a wandering scale man. He crept up on them stealthily, and when he saw them flirting with the precipice of the abyss, he struck. The crazed man pushed Ostrava between the shoulders, easily unbalancing him, and he went plummeting downwards into the mouth of Hell, screaming at the top of his lungs.

While Alvira's reflexes were inhumanly fast, in this instance she had allocated a hundred percent of her focus on the yawning chasm in front of her. She tried to grab for Ostrava before he fell, only managing to scrape the tips of her fingers against his back before he was beyond her reach. She yelled after him, her mind frantic, fearing for the worst: that he would fall all the way to the bottom and there was absolutely nothing that she could do. Behind her, the momentarily forgotten scale man groaned and shuffled towards her. She gripped her halberd tightly in her hands and thrust the weapon in the direction that the sound had come from with enough force that it went through his midsection and out through his back. The madman died instantaneously, and she flung the corpse roughly into the shaft to dislodge it. Then everything went strangely quiet.

"Ostrava?" Alvira yelled into the pit, uncaring in the moment who or what heard her. There was no response. She tried again, louder this time, but still there was no answer. Had she been in her right mind, she may have reconsidered her next course of action; however, she was not, and took no recourse for herself as she jumped into the fissure.

He could hear her voice calling for him, distant as it was, but he didn't have the air in his lungs to call out for her in turn. While Ostrava hadn't fallen far, he had landed directly on his back, which had effectively knocked all the wind from his lungs. Blood burbled in his throat, threatening to choke him if he didn't cough. He was fairly certain that his shield arm was broken, judging by the odd angle that it was bent at the elbow, though strangely it didn't hurt nearly as much as he would have imagined. Eventually he hacked all the blood from his throat and lungs and his breathing evened out into a pained wheeze. Darkness surrounded him almost completely but for what little light emanated from the depths below. His thoughts felt scattered, and he was sporting one hell of a headache from where his head had struck the ground.

It was then that he heard a familiar jangling sound approaching him - the sound of armor and chainmail. He let out a flimsy sigh of relief. Alvira had found him and was coming to help him. He'd had no doubt in his mind that she would find him; knew in his heart that she wouldn't leave him to die down here.

"Oh d-d-d-dear, what has happ-p-pened?"

Ostrava's relief gave way to fear, and his blood froze in his veins. Whoever was coming towards him was not Alvira. As the footsteps got closer, his heart pounded harder, and his collapsed lungs burned as he tried to swallow thick, smoke-strewn air. He was well and truly done for now.

He felt the wind around him shift as a strange figure knelt down beside him. He opened his eyes but had to squint as his vision was filled by light. Above him was a strange, white-haired man clad in light steel armor and wielding a frighteningly large fireball in his hand, undoubtedly the source of the light. Ostrava looked the man in the face and his dark brown eyes snapped to his own. His gaze was anything but malevolent, and despite not knowing the stranger, Ostrava found himself settling down. The man frowned deeply as he skimmed over Ostrava's body, surveying his injuries. He grabbed his broken arm gently and turned it slightly in his hands, causing Ostrava to wince and grunt in pain. Then he reached for his visor, attempting to raise it; Ostrava had enough presence of mind to stop the man, though the pain from the sudden movement was tremendous, causing him to shout.

"M-my, my, what a p-p-pity this is," he said as he shook his head, retracting his probing hand from Ostrava's face. "You must be in a g-g-great deal of d-discomfort, yes?"

Ostrava didn't have the strength, or the lung capacity, to respond, but it didn't seem like the man was looking for reciprocation anyway. He placed his free hand on Ostrava's chest, and he was immediately filled with the sensation of warmth and amenity. His headache abated almost immediately, and he could feel the skin around his open cuts knitting back together as well as the aches in his contusions weakening. On his next intake of breath, he inhaled a gratifying amount of air, the impression of a great weight upon his chest lifting. The pain in his arm left through his fingertips as broken bone redressed. Satisfied with his work, the man removed his soothing hand from him and took the wrist of Ostrava's previously broken arm in his palm. He tested the arm, bending it to the left and the right before laying it carefully across Ostrava's stomach with a nod of approval.

"Well now, f-f-feel b-better?" the man asked.

"Yes… thank you…" Ostrava rasped tiredly as he propped himself up on his healed arm. "But may I inquire as to just who you are?"

"Ah, yes, how t-t-terribly rude of m-me!" The man rose to his feet and offered Ostrava the hand not currently manipulating that menacing ball of flame. Ostrava accepted it and awkwardly clambered to his feet. "I am S-Scirvir the Wanderer. I seek t-t-treasures of the unknown."

Ostrava tilted his head and raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. The man, Scirvir, chuckled at his response.

"Yes, yes, I've g-g-gotten that look quite a b-b-bit. Though I c-can't argue that it may be warranted. You think me crazy for c-coming out here with the goings-on, n-no?"

Ostrava frowned. "You cannot see my face, how do you…?"

"Your b-body language says it all."

Ostrava quickly decided it was best to change the subject before he said something he would regret. "What could possibly be here that is worth risking your life for?"

"I do n-n-not know. B-but I heard rumor of a t-t-temple here, buried d-deep within the ground. It only seemed n-n-natural to c-come and investigate."

"You are quite mad," Ostrava deadpanned, echoing the man's earlier sentiment. Scirvir grinned mischievously.

"C-come now, have you no s-sense of adventure?" he joked.

"No, only a sense of duty."

"Which b-brings me to q-question your reason for being here."

Ostrava tensed and looked at the man warily. He was still smiling at him. Scirvir didn't seem dangerous to him now, but if the short time he had been traveling with Alvira had taught him anything, it was that things may not always be as they appear on the surface.

"My business is my own," he replied at last.

"Ah, not one for s-sharing, I see. J-just as well."

Scirvir turned away from him and started down a wide tunnel. He snapped his fingers and the flame he had been holding extinguished, but at the end of the tunnel, Ostrava could see a campfire burning brightly now that its light was unimpeded by the man's sorcery. Scirvir made his way towards it and settled down, holding one hand out to the open flame while scrambling around in a worn leather satchel with the other. From it, he produced a stained white cloth, which he unfolded to reveal a bundle of herbs. He picked one out of the bundle, admiring how it glinted in the light of the fire, before bringing it to his mouth and biting into it.

"Are you h-hungry?" he called to Ostrava. He couldn't deny that he was, loathe as he felt about accepting food from this stranger. Though if the man had any plans of killing him, he'd of had an easier time accomplishing it without first healing him. With a resigned sigh, Ostrava walked towards the campfire and seated himself opposite of Scirvir. Scirvir handed him an herb as he chowed down on his own happily. Up close, Ostrava was able to identify the glittering golden plant as full moon grass. This discovery, at the very least, put his fear of poisoned food to rest. He shifted so that the man couldn't see his face and they ate in companionable silence. Yet, in the back of his mind, he worried that something bad would happen to Alvira. He prayed silently for them to be reunited soon.

Alvira landed with a thunk on a wooden platform, the planks groaning against the impact. Thinking on it, she surmised that she had probably fallen about twenty feet. She found the stony wall of the pit, put her back to it, and scooted carefully against it to stop herself from unintentionally falling further. It was then that, out of the corner of her eye, she caught the image of light flowing from the mouth of a tunnel. She inched closer, eventually coming to the end of the wooden platform. The light had exposed a cliff jutting from the wall. She was able to estimate the distance and concluded that it was safe for her to jump. With that, she positioned herself at the edge of the platform and pushed off with as much power as she could. She fell further this time, but still managed to land on her feet with nothing but a residual ache in her knees and shins.

To her right, she heard somebody gasp. She instinctively reached for her bow, nocked an arrow, and had it aimed expertly at the offender before realizing who she was targeting.

"Alvira!" Ostrava exclaimed elatedly. The knight was running towards her at break-neck speed, and narrowly avoided barreling into her before skidding to a halt.

"Ostrava, you're safe!" Alvira dropped her bow, letting it clatter to the ground as she opened her arms and hugged Ostrava tightly. He leaned heavily into her touch and squeezed her to him. She rested her head against his shoulder and let out a breath she hadn't even known she was holding. "Thank God, I was so worried!"

"As was I for you…"

They held their hug for a bit longer, each of them savoring the moment, before separating. That was when Alvira noticed the other man behind Ostrava, sitting before a campfire and looking over at them curiously. Alvira stiffened and began slowly reaching down for her bow.

"It is okay, Alvira," Ostrava whispered reassuringly, noticing her distress. "This man assisted me after I fell."

Alvira kept a wary eye on the figure as she collected her bow, though she didn't sling it away. "Is that so?"

"Indeed. He was even so kind as to tend to my injuries."

That answered the question as to how he was in such good condition after tumbling such a long distance. The man made eye contact with her as they scrutinized each other but made no move to unsheathe his weapon. Never lowering her guard, Alvira and Ostrava made their way over to the fire. Ostrava took a seat, picked up a half-eaten piece of grass that had been discarded in his haste to see Alvira, and resumed eating it, all the while ignoring the staring competition happening between her and the unknown figure. Soon enough, he broke eye contact and redirected his gaze to the fire in front of him. The gesture did little to relax her. It was difficult for her to fathom why anybody would come to a place like this willingly. Also, the fact that he had managed to heal Ostrava meant that he was proficient in at least the art of miracles, yet his garb and demeanor spoke of no affiliation to the Temple. His presence was suspicious and rung every warning bell in her head.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"My name is S-Scirvir," he stuttered out.

"Why are you here?"

He snickered and waved a dismissive hand at her. "N-now, now, there is n-no need to interrogate m-me. I am no th-th-th-threat to you."

It was then that Alvira eyed the peculiar talisman he was holding in his left hand. It looked like nothing she had seen before; the image it was carved into was definitely not one of God, but rather a twisted representation of the Tree. Her eyes narrowed. He was a worshipper of false icons. God save his soul.

"I'll be the judge of that. Answer me."

Scirvir sighed. "I am a s-s-simple t-treasure hunter."

"You traveled all this way for materialistic pursuits?"

"I did."

"Are you aware just how dangerous this place is?"

"I've been t-told it is d-dreadfully so…" he said sardonically.

"You'll likely die here should you decide to stay."

"Oh, I d-d-do believe I can manage. I've made it this f-far, have I not?"

Alvira shook her head. The man was greedy, so much so that he came to a demon-infested mine on the mere promise of finding riches. There is little I can do to reason with him, Alvira mused. Best not waste any more time.

But while there was something unnerving about Scirvir, she could not deny the fact that he had saved Ostrava's life, and she was not somebody to deny credit where it was due. "Thank you," she stated at last.

"F-for?" She turned her head to Ostrava, and he understood. "Oh, you are quite welcome," he replied cheerily. "Always happy to help s-someone in need."

Her next words were directed towards Ostrava. "We need to get going."

"So, we do," he said seriously as he stood and rolled his shoulders. He had caught on to the mood and was almost as eager as her to depart, but offered a respectful bow to Scirvir, who nodded at him in turn whilst never taking his eyes from the fire. The duo turned and walked away, though Alvira kept tabs on the stranger through her peripherals. A short distance away lay the edge of the cliff, but the light of the fire illuminated many more platforms below, as well as a network of ladders. The only way to go was further down. Without a word, Alvira gripped Ostrava's hand and led them off the cliffside.

Fortunately for Ostrava, the last fall had been manageable. The ladders, however, so long that he could not see the end of them, made him nauseous. "Do not fall, do not fall," he chanted to himself, holding on to the splintery wood with a grip so hard that his fingers cramped.

"We're almost at the bottom," Alvira said, consoling him. Or, at the very least, trying.

The base of the pit was within falling distance. Below, the floor was littered with ancient-looking bones, most of which were broken, but for a massive ribcage that remained intact. The sight of it sent shivers down Ostrava's spine, unbid images of monstrous creatures coming to mind that could have possibly possessed bones so large. The ladder ended right before it reached the ground, so Alvira lowered herself in a display of upper body strength that Ostrava had never before seen from a woman, dangling from the ladder before letting go. He didn't dare attempt the same stunt, sure that he would only embarrass himself, so he simply took a deep breath and let go when he reached the last wrung.

Alvira landed eloquently on her feet, but Ostrava's knees buckled beneath his weight when he landed, sending him to the floor. He groaned as Alvira pulled him upright.

So much for not embarrassing himself…

"I shall be glad when this endeavor is finished," Ostrava grumbled to himself. Alvira nodded her head in silent agreement.

Then, she felt shaking beneath her feet.

"Get back!" she shouted, all but throwing Ostrava behind her, where he once again lost his balance and toppled to the ground. The shaking became worse until the earth opened up underneath her. She managed to jump away just in time as a gigantic rockworm erupted from its tunnel and sprang at her. Bow already in hand, Alvira nocked an arrow and aimed it at the thing's head, landing a direct hit. The rockworm screeched and wriggled furiously, causing her next arrow to miss. However, the creature was unable to recover before another arrow pierced its head, causing it to fall harshly to the ground. Content that it was dead, Alvira eased herself and helped Ostrava up from the floor.

"Wow…" Ostrava mumbled under his breath. Alvira followed his eyes and gasped when she saw the source of his wonder. Before them was a large archway constructed of bone, reaching high into the wall of the pit. Beyond the archway, a large stone temple wreathed in flame descended into the earth. A statue of a large dragon sat near the temple's entrance, acting as a sentinel guarding the ruins.

Alvira beckoned for Ostrava to follow her, and he did so without ever taking his eyes off the temple; he was utterly fascinated with it. But, as they approached, a thunderous growl erupted from its depths. They froze, watching as a creature emerged from the flames. Fiery claws reached out between the pillars of the temple's upper floor, clasping one in each hand. They violently wrenched them apart, causing a small cascade of rock and rubble to spill to the ground below. It emerged out onto the balcony and hastily dropped down, the earth trembling as it landed. The creature was large and bulky, its spiked and armored carapace prominent in its own luminescence. Its face was little more than a large, misshapen skull with horns reaching out horizontally from either side of its head. Small red eyes could barely be made out amidst the flames surrounding it, slitted dangerously at Alvira. Then, with a mighty roar, the demon charged at her.

Within a split second, the Flamelurker was upon her. Ostrava dove out of the way as the two danced back and forth. Alvira had drawn her halberd and was swiping at the demon furiously, trying to keep the beast at bay. The blade of her weapon scraped across the demon's chest, trails of fire following its path along its hardened skin. The Flamelurker largely ignored her attacks, stampeding at her like a raging bull and swiping its claws left and right rapidly. She managed to keep it at arm's length, albeit barely, as she continued her own assault. A particularly deep cut caused the Flamelurker to grunt but did little to slow it down. It just kept coming at her, putting her in a state of constant defense as she backpedaled away from the fearsome creature. She had no doubt that if the demon managed to strike her, it'd shred through her armor and skin like a hot knife through butter. Even this far, she could feel the intense heat emanating from its body.

Opting for distance, Alvira quickly put away her halberd and unslung her bow. For a moment, they circled each other as Alvira nocked an arrow and set it loose. The shaft and feathers briefly caught flame before piercing the demon right in the eye socket. It roared in pain as the arrow disintegrated. Alvira took the opportunity to hurl another arrow, managing to lodge it in the Flamelurker's chest before it, too, eroded and fell away as ash.

The demon screamed, flaming spittle falling from its maw as it charged her again. But the demon caught her off guard as it slammed its claws into the ground, enticing a violent explosion. The blast barely missed her, but the aftershock pushed her backwards, leaving her open momentarily for an attack. The Flamelurker raked its claws at her, driving into her chest and ripping through her silver plate with ease. She was thrown off her feet by the sheer force the demon exerted and landed on her back several yards away, though she managed to keep a firm grip on her weapon.

In the end, it did not spare her. She held the weapon in front of her as if to guard against the demon's incoming attack. It leapt into the air high above her, bearing down on her with all its weight. Both of her arms snapped on impact, but the scream that was building in her throat was silenced as the demon's claws ripped through her neck.

Ostrava's anguished cries bled between the seams of life and death. She couldn't stop now.

She rose again.

The beast was close enough to strike, even with the broken shaft of her halberd. She swung the weapon like an axe, slashing the demon's face and causing it to recoil with an angry roar. She used her bow to pelt it from afar, its screams reaching a fever pitch as each one pierced its thick hide.

With as many arrows as Alvira had loosed into the demon's carapace, she imagined that it would have looked like a pincushion by now if they hadn't burned away. But the damned beast just kept at her no matter how many times she struck it and it showed no signs of fatiguing any time soon. It roared ferociously and charged her again, pounding the ground a few times and causing a rapid succession of explosions to flare. Alvira jumped to her feet, spinning away from the demon's blows. Bits of flaming rock went flying in every direction, forcing her to duck and weave expertly between them to avoid being struck. She skirted away outside of the blast radius, more arrows pelting the Flamelurker as she went. Soon it was chasing her again, but this time it was gaining on her. A flurry of claws and teeth was unleashed upon her, and she narrowly avoided a savage bite as she aimed an arrow. She shot the Flamelurker directly in the mouth while it was still open, causing the demon to release a loathsome wail, blood and fire dripping profusely from its jaws. The demon wouldn't be able to endure this treatment forever, she knew. The bloody beast was finally starting to weaken.

Then, suddenly, the Flamelurker stalled. It fell to the ground on its hands and knees, and for a moment, Alvira cheered until the fire engulfing it burst forth, increasing the expanse of its malignant aura. Its flames burned so bright that she felt as if she was looking into the sun, completely consuming the demon's features, and leaving nothing to the eye but a crescending inferno. It surged at her then, easily tearing through what was left of her silver armor and rendering it useless. The Flamelurker assailed her again, headbutting her and grazing her leg with a sharp horn. There was no pain, but Alvira still had a strange sense of loss, like a part of her had been severed. She was knocked backwards through the air, landing hard on her side, and skidding through the dirt.

Before Alvira could react, the Flamelurker was barreling towards her on all fours. It reached for her and snatched her up in its claws, dragging her towards it. Vicious snarls and growls rang out from the demon's throat as it bit and scratched at her. Having no shield, she was forced to defend weakly against the Flamelurker's onslaught with her halberd. This strategy proved to be ineffectual, earning her several more harrowing bites and scratches. With each attack she felt herself fade, and then she knew: the demon was consuming her soul.

She had to end this now.

When the Flamelurker reared its head back for another bite, Alvira poised her halberd offensively and jabbed the weapon into its skull as its head descended downwards. The beast halted and cried in torment, clutching its head and flailing left and right, dragging Alvira along the ground with its movements. She managed to dislodge the weapon and brought the blade down on top of its head, cutting its screams short as its skull was split in two. She was showered in blood and gore as it sprayed forth from its open cranium. The demon's quickly extinguishing body fell upon her, but she pushed it off and rolled to her feet.

"Alvira…"

Alvira looked up from the corpse of the demon, its flames fizzling out as the Maiden's augite absorbed its soul. Ostrava was breathing hard from exertion, hands stretching towards her, only to fall midway.

"Alvira… I am…"

She remained silent. She studied him, perplexed, as he began to tremble.

"I… am…"

His knees wobbled, and he looked as if he would fall. Alvira reached for him, supported him, and he released a pained sob before he flung her hands away, letting himself cascade to the dirt.

"Ostrava, are you hu-?"

"Do not ask me that!" he screamed as he unleashed his sorrow, armored fists pummeling the dirt. Alvira sought once more to comfort him, but he fought her away each time she presented her hand. She knew that she grieved for him, but the familiar pangs in her heart didn't come, nor did her tears. She felt nothing at all.

"How many times must I watch you die in front of me?" he asked brokenly, his now expended body lowering itself into the dirt. His fingers carved an impression into the ground. "Why do you even do it?"

"Because it is my duty."

Ostrava paused and looked up at her in disbelief. "Your duty…?" he repeated quietly. He examined her, half her armor stripped away, blood covering the front of her breastplate like a new coating of paint where her artery had been sliced.

'After dying like that, they expected me to go out there and do it again and again. Meanwhile, they can't even tell me the God damned truth.'

When he looked at her before, she seemed to stand so tall. She was strong, not only in body, but also in will. But when he saw her now, she was so small, so delicate, only a lone woman. "Why you…?"

Alvira gave no reply.

'Take this to heart, lest you be damned like us – we are pawns.'

"Why you?!"

"There is no one else."

"Then let it all burn!"

Ostrava's words stunned them both into silence. Alvira made a noise as if to gasp. Ostrava bit his lip so hard that a trickle of blood slid down his chin.

Alvira knelt beside him and placed a supporting hand against the small of his back. This time, he didn't pull away.

"That would certainly be the easy route, wouldn't it?" she asked, her echoing voice gentle, calming. "But I can't let the demons take everything away. I've lost too much already."

Ostrava remained quiet.

"Th-that was quite an impressive d-display if I do s-say so myself."

Alvira paused, then she swerved her head in direction of the voice. Scirvir was standing scant inches from them, looking down with a hint of barely concealed amusement on his face.

"You followed us," she growled.

"So I d-did. And I am glad, for I have f-found what I s-s-sought." He inclined his head towards the gigantic stone temple. "And I must say, this is a magnificent s-spectacle. Even b-b-better than I imagined!"

Alvira frowned and reached for her discarded halberd with her free hand. The action did not go unnoticed by the ever-observant explorer. "Are you s-so eager to fight?" Scirvir asked, the undertone of a challenge clear.

She said nothing as her fingers wrapped tightly around her weapon. Scirvir turned away from them and strode confidently towards the temple, muttering something about dragons and bones under his breath. Alvira poised herself to attack.

"Do not."

Ostrava's words snapped her attention back to him completely. "He may be eccentric, but he has not harmed us."

Alvira lowered her halberd despite her misgivings. Something about the man bothered her, but Ostrava was right. Not only had he not harmed them, but he had been so kind as to tend Ostrava's wounds. Still, Alvira watched the man's back through narrowed eyes. The enigmatic man clamored on to himself about his discovery, making wild gestures with his hands, though she was unable to discern his words from this distance.

"Perhaps we should take a look at what he has found," Ostrava offered reasonably.

Ostrava stood, and Alvira followed, hand still holding him up even as her fingers rapped listlessly against the broken handle of her halberd. If not for the gauntlet, he wouldn't be able to feel her. His whole body twinged with misery.

They walked like that towards the animated man and the temple. Scirvir was still talking to himself and was midsentence when they were within earshot. They heard utterings of a "Dragon God" and "ancient weaponry."

Ostrava tapped his shoulder and the man nearly jumped out of his boots. "E-gads, d-d-don't sneak up on me like that!"

"What were you saying just now?" Ostrava asked, feigning interest.

"Ah, yes, this ap-p-pears to be the T-t-temple of the Dragon God that I have heard s-so much about. Th-though the locals have long b-believed the dragon to be d-d-dead, many still came t-to make offerings to their d-d-deity. One of t-those offerings was the t-temple itself, b-built around the corpse of their lord. B-b-but the scale men were ever afraid of angering their g-god, so fail safes were constructed s-should the d-d-dire need arise that the D-dragon God be s-slain.

"Now, whether or not that story is t-true remains to be seen. I have also heard, however, th-that the d-dragon's bones exude a most p-p-precious and invaluable ore. One of the main reasons I've c-c-come here is to c-c-collect this substance, as it is t-t-truly one-of-a-kind."

Ostrava only half-listened to the man's story while Alvira felt an overwhelming disgust. Here was a temple dedicated to the worship of a false god, not only in-tact, but she'd go so far as to say it was 'well-maintained.' She had witnessed the destruction of temples to the One True God back in her homeland, and she felt personally affronted for these transgressions against her Lord. She eyed the intricately carved stone of a pretender with the utmost disdain.

The duo followed Scirvir, each one distracted by their own inner turmoil, but allowing themselves to be led further inside by the white-haired man. Though, Alvira couldn't shake the looming feeling that a great evil dwelled within.

Author's note: Wow, this chapter is twice as long as anything I've published yet. I tweaked a lot of things from the original, and I believe that the narrative now fits more thematically to my intentions than the first iteration.

Also, I'm so excited; three whole years after I posted this story, I finally got reviews! Thank you to those of you that took the time to write something, it really means a lot to me as an author. Without feedback, it's hard to stay motivated and continue, especially considering the countless hours I've poured into this project so far. One of the main reasons I write this is for the sake of others' enjoyment, so it's good to know that I've managed to accomplish that at some point.

Much love to all of you!