"Yaeger!" The Captain stood up from his chair, his weary face brightening as his best scout lieutenant entered the study. He barely noticed Yaeger's haggard appearance, with his helmet tucked under his arm and his hair dark with sweat across his brow. "It's about time, young man," he exclaimed as he reached to clasp the soldier's arm. "I was worried for a moment that the bears had gotten to your entire troop."

Yaeger tried to force a smile, but it didn't quite reach his tired eyes. "Not exactly a bear, sir," he said quietly. "But we did return with…" He stopped, seemingly at a loss for words.

The Captain immediately sobered, and he tugged his own helmet off his head. "Did you find the boy?" he said in barely more than a whisper.

"No," Yaeger answered, and the Captain's hopeful look dissipated. "But there's someone we picked up outside the forest, someone who claims to know how we can track the alchemist down."

The captain frowned, his mustache bristling. "Who?"

Yaeger straightened his tired back. He seemed reluctant to answer; not out of fear, but embarrassment. "He says his name is Caius, sir."

The name caused the Captain to stiffen, and his eyes flashed open wide with shock. "What did you say?"

"Caius." Yeager's tone changed to criticism. "He claims to be some kind of witch hunter, but I'm not sure if that's all just a load of –"

"He's here?" The Captain cut him off with a hiss as sweat started to visibly bead near his temples. "You brought him to the capital?"

"Well, yes," Yaeger answered firmly, his expression a mixture of confusion and alarm as he delivered a brief report. The Captain listened intently, the muscles tight in his neck as he learned of the unorthodox path his scouts had been forced to take with this strange wanderer. "He's been a consultant of sorts since…You know him, sir?"

The Captain didn't answer at first. He felt his way back around the desk and sat down in the chair, wiping a trembling hand over his balding head. "I know of him," he clarified after a moment. "It would be dangerous for me to tell you more."

"Understood, sir," Yaeger said without hesitation. "He wishes to speak to you about our current assignment. My men and I can detain him if you wish. As always, I am pledged to obey your orders. What would you have me do?"

"No," the Captain said after another pause. "No. If he wishes to speak…Bring him to me."

"At once, Captain." Yaeger saluted and turned on his heel. The instant he left, the Captain scrambled to the lockbox and opened it to retrieve one of the many report records, sifting through a faded black leather journal until he found the name. Caius, the former captain's brother. Good soldier, if a bit intense. Assumed dead four years after the witch hunt, fifteen years ago. No word on a burial or grave site, so it was possible. The captain closed the book and quickly locked the box once more, just in time to hear Yaeger's return knock on the door. "I have him, sir," the lieutenant reported from the other side.

"Very good," the Captain straightened, donning his helmet once more. "Escort him in."

Caius entered the room slowly, deliberately, as if he had been given no orders but his own. His muscular frame seemed to fill half the room, imposing and dark as the Captain's lamplight flickered. The blind eye in his head gazed downward, the milky orb piercing the Captain's sight like a hot lance. Yaeger frowned skeptically as the witch hunter stopped before the Captain's desk with his broad shoulders set and his hands held slack at his sides.

"Leave us, Yaeger," the Captain said. "Keep watch outside."

Yaeger immediately opened his mouth to protest. He stopped himself before he could, sharing a silent, urgent stare with his commanding officer. The Captain gave a single nod, and the lieutenant deflated. "Yes, sir," he said, unable to mask the reluctance in his voice as he turned and closed the door behind him, the latch closing shut with a staccato click.

The Captain stood resolute behind his desk, looking Caius up and down. "I'm afraid I don't have a seat for you," he began coolly, his tone conveying a practiced confidence as he deliberately met the witch hunter's eyes. "Though it seems you don't necessarily want one. I've dealt with the dead before, a tavern haunting. Something about the original owner dying of shame after trying to sing in public. Personally, I don't really believe in the paranormal, but, then again, you don't seem to be as dead as the records say. I'd like to thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to consult with my scouts. I was told you've been very helpful."

"Really, Captain, must we deal with the pleasantries?" Caius said in his gravelly voice; he sounded almost bored. "I assume the lieutenant has yet to inform you of your scouts' findings outside the Haderon Forest?" He continued before the Captain could answer, "The son of Quirin intends to resurrect his father with the aid of a witch."

The Captain's right eye twitched once, but he managed to keep a level tone as he spoke. "You are referring to the Crimson Caster?"

"Ah," Caius' brow lifted, and a flicker of genuine surprise lit his working eye. "You are more informed than I suspected. In a way, I speak of her, but not in the way that you think. The boy's intent was to employ the Crimson Caster, but he has enlisted the aid of her daughter instead."

A daughter? The king had made no mention of any offspring. The Captain's composure threatened to crumble as he fought to hide his ignorance. "How do you know all of this?"

"It is my trade."

The Captain frowned at the insufficient reply. "Witches are not my concern. My orders are to capture the boy."

Caius' lip curled into a bitter sneer. "An hour ago, he and the witch were here, at the capital."

"Here?!" The Captain's good form snapped, and his emotions sprang out into view. "For Heaven's sake, we need to initiate a citywide lockdown!"

"It's far too late for that," Caius scoffed. "By now, he'll have already obtained what he was looking for. The mage he was travelling with has headed south – they'll have passed through the gates before your guards can catch them."

"Then we must send out a perimeter on horseback!" The Captain fled to the door, throwing it open wide. "Yaeger!" He barked. "Tell Torell to assemble his men. I need them spread out in a south sweep, past the island!"

"Sir!" Guard Stan swung around the corner, sprinting down the corridor. Stan's mustache was askew, and his helmet sat crooked on his head. "I mean, sirs!" he continued breathlessly. "We've just received a report from the city patrol. One of our men is missing!"

The Captain donned a stone-hard expression. "Name?"

"Martin, sir. The young one."

The Captain's forehead creased. "That's the one who was demoted from prison duty, from the night the boy escaped."

Yaeger's head swiveled in alarm. "Captain, you don't think…"

"No," the Captain sneered. "Not one of my men. Absolutely not. I don't recruit traitors. Go give Torell my orders –"

"Don't."

The spoken word stopped the Captain mid-sentence; Caius stood in the doorway, his frame filling the space so much that he blocked the view of the study. "Excuse me?" the Captain said through gritted teeth.

Caius folded his arms. "You really think I chose to cooperate with your men just to tell you information you could easily have found out for yourself? A south perimeter isn't what you need. A large scale move like that is a waste of time, resources, and taxpayers' money."

Enraged, Yaeger advanced. "Why, you –!"

But the Captain grabbed his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. He glared into the witch hunter's face. "Why did you come, then?"

"To offer my exclusive services as the only witch hunter left in Corona." Caius stepped forward, towering over the others, his blind eye twitching back and forth under his narrow, greying eyebrows. "The situation requires a specialist. Your target is leaving a trail only I can follow."

"Is that so?"

Caius blinked once. "You will never catch that boy without me. He's young, he's fast, and, quite frankly, he boasts an intelligence that rivals Demanitus himself. But there is one mistake he has made. He wishes to use magic." A small smile creased his lips. "I know how to kill magic." His blind eye swiveled to meet Yaeger's vengeful grimace. "Can your scouts claim the same?"

"That's enough," the Captain barked. Then he sighed through his nose, weighing his options. After a moment, he sighed again, then snapped his fingers at Stan. "Find this man a bunk." He turned to Yaeger. "I want you to write me a full report. You can dismiss your men, send them home for the night if they have one."

Yaeger couldn't hold it in. "But, sir!" he exclaimed, red-faced and appalled.

"You have your orders, lieutenant!"

"I…yes…sir." Yaeger saluted stiffly, flashing Caius one final glare, before forcing himself to march down the corridor. Stan followed, eyeing Caius warily as he departed for the barracks.

The Captain turned to face Caius once more. "You're no stranger to the chain of command, witch hunter. This is my game, my orders. Understood?"

Caius nodded once. "Of course. Consider my services enlisted, Captain. In the morning, we shall begin."

"How many of these things are there?!" Martin cried out. His helmet had been knocked off, his pale hair frazzled and sticking out at every angle. Instinctively, he stabbed into a skeleton's armor, his sword biting through the brittle metal to where the heart should have been. The skeleton continued to swing at him, forcing the young guard to duck and lose his grip. Unarmed, he panicked for an instant, then jumped when Varian slammed his slender frame into the skeleton from the left, crashing it into the wall.

"Enough to kill us," Varian snapped back as he shot across the hall at another of the undead, his father's bowstring snapping past his flushed cheek. There was an explosion as the chemically-loaded arrow cleaved the skeleton's shinbone in half, the ensuing blast sending a few others flying into piles of bone and rotting sinew across the blue-lit mosaic floor. Varian knew they couldn't do this forever; desperate, he thought of an idea. "Here!" He nearly ripped the buckle off Spellbane's strap as he heaved the sword in Martin's direction. "That sword dispels magic, it might help us get out of here!"

Martin caught the blade and stared in alarm at it. "My training's in arming swords, not claymores!"

One skeleton drew too close to Varian, and he swung his bow in a wide arc to knock it off-balance. "It's not a claymore, it's a broadsword!" he yelled.

Martin strapped the sword to his back. "Well, if you know so much about it, why don't you use it?!"

"Don't you think I would be if I knew how?!" Varian kicked and shot again. "My father wasn't a swordsman, he - well, actually, he was, but - never mind, the point is, I don't know how!"

Martin growled between his teeth and drew the sword out into the open; the runes glowed like embers in the presence of the undead. "Whoa," Martin marveled for an instant before charging forward. The blade was surprisingly light, and he was easily able to slice down upon a nearby skeleton like a hot knife through butter. Dusty marrow spilled out from the strike, and white fire bloomed up the blade's edge, causing Martin to cringe. "How do we get out of here?!"

Varian wrenched a flare serum out of his bag. "Cover me!" His back slammed into Martin's as his fingers went to work, hastily tying the serum to his next arrow. Martin continued to swing, the blade's anti-magic keeping the undead at bay. Varian nearly dropped his handiwork before he managed to finish, turning to face the open hall. "Shield your eyes," he ordered, yanking his goggles over his sweaty face.

"Are you insane?!"

"Just do it!" Varian shrieked.

Martin mashed a gauntlet over his eyes, and he heard the arrow shaft snap in half against a pillar on the other side of the hall. Hot light bled through his eyelashes, and a dry, hissing noise emanated through the air as the skeletons shrank back against the brightness.

"Come on!" Varian tugged Martin down the opposite direction, further down the hall and into the dark. Their hasty footsteps echoed eerily as the hall expanded into a wide chamber, and they lurched to a stop as a long, narrow bridge spanned a wide, deep canal. The water bubbled and swirled as Varian led the way towards the mouth of the bridge, yanking his goggles off his eyes to see. "Let's go," he encouraged, and Martin stayed close on his heels as they sprinted across.

They made it halfway before the stone beneath their feet started to crumble. Varian wasn't sure what caused it; whether it was something that triggered as they'd tried to cross, or if it was Spellbane's doing, it didn't matter as his footsteps threatened to plunge into the brink.

Varian heard Martin fall before he saw him; he lurched forward with the last purchase he had, landing flat on his stomach on the other side of the canal. He lurched around and saw Martin floundering in the water, struggling to stay afloat. "Martin!" He reached down, but the guard was being carried too quickly downstream. "Get your armor off!"

Martin disappeared under the current for thirty bone-chilling seconds before reemerging almost twenty-five meters away, gasping and spluttering. Varian managed to narrowly dodge arrow fire from the opposite side as the skeletons continued to target them. "I'm coming!" Varian whipped out his hand-built cord, searching for something to tie it to. "Come on, come on, there's got to be something!" The walls were smooth and endless, no pillars to loop around, not even a chink in the ground to hammer into.

"Varian!" Martin wailed, genuine terror in his voice. "I can't reach the edge!"

Helpless, Varian threw his cord on the ground, screaming through his teeth in frustration. The skeletons were still trying to shoot them down, arrows whizzing too close for comfort. He couldn't deal with the danger of being shot and the stress of saving Martin at the same time. Instinct took over, and he felt his arm launch out in the direction of the far side. He heard a voice in the back of his mind, whispering and fierce; it was Luna's voice, hot with anger, but he couldn't understand the words. Every muscle in his chest tightened when he realized what he was doing, and he watched as a cluster of jagged, black rocks broke through the tiled floor, sparking in rivulets of white and blue. The skeletons scattered, bones clattering across the ground. Varian shook off a sudden burst of fatigue, forcing himself towards the edge of the canal as he threw his arm down. He braced himself against the cold stone, waiting for Martin to grab on, praying through his teeth that the soldier wasn't already gone. The guard emerged from the dark waters and managed to clasp Varian's fingers, his wet grip almost slipping out of reach. Martin hastily reached with his other hand, nearly dragging Varian down into the water with him. Varian strained, his arm completely bent outwards as Martin struggled to pull himself up. Martin had listened; his armor was gone, his thin tunic sticking to every inch of his skin as he clambered up out of the canal.

Varian didn't give the guard a single second to breathe. "Move it!" he barked, shoving Martin down the opposite way. "There's an exit down by the bridge, go!" His bow back in hand, he tried to fire at the remaining undead, but his arm was too weak to fully draw. Using the Celestial's power had taken too much out of him, and he barely managed to follow Martin out of harm's way.

The cold darkness of the narrow corridor greeted them with open arms, and both young men collapsed into it, panting and weak. Martin shivered on the ground, curling into a tight ball, his brown eyes bloodshot and shell-shocked with fear.

Since he wasn't soaking wet, having encountered the undead before, Varian managed to recover first. He dragged himself up the wall, shaking. "Well," he said huskily, "at least we made it across." He looked down at Martin and heaved a sigh of relief when he saw Spellbane still strapped across his back. He knelt and reached to unbuckle the strap, taking back the weapon. "Come on," he told the guard, taking his arm. "You'll get hypothermia if we stay here. I know you're in shock, but we have to keep moving. I think we have about six miles left."

Martin didn't say anything, but he managed to nod. He did his best to bring himself to his feet; Varian did his best to support him, dragging him slowly down the corridor. Blue torches lit themselves as they passed by, flickering flames dancing eerily against the frigid stone.

"You…you saved my life," Martin wheezed.

Varian said nothing. They continued onward, and he felt a twinge of relief as the ground beneath him began to slope slowly upward.

"Your hair was glowing again. But, like, all of it this time."

Varian still said nothing.

"I lost a boot," Martin remarked through chattering teeth.

"It's okay," Varian muttered. "We'll get you a new one."

"These are my father's boots."

Varian felt his heart clench in his chest. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. He's gonna kill me when he finds out."

Varian chuckled under his breath. "I won't tell if you don't."

Martin coughed out a wet laugh. "So, you think maybe now I'm at least a little privy to what you have planned?"

The question hung in the air for a while as Varian mulled it over. "We're going to Mount Saison to meet up with a friend," he finally answered.

"I already knew tha – wait, what friend? You have friends?"

"I…" Varian exhaled sharply through his nose. "Yes. I have a friend. And if she's not there…"

No. She had to be there. If anything had happened...

She had to be.