The drawbridge connecting the cobblestone path and the fort was already lowered, another evidence that the Paladin made it out into the wilds. The road was of little use, as Nature began reclaiming its territory just beyond a wooden road sign that showed a similar state of decay. They stood atop a slope with a path to the shore on their left and a path leading into the gloomy forest to their right. Vermil plucked the scavenged map from his belongings and hummed in consternation. At the same time, the bridge behind them started raising again. Beast's countermeasure to deter anyone from following skilled fighters to their own doom.
Lohse looked over the rogue's arm to glance at the faded parchment. The sketched topography wasn't full and showed only those parts of the island useful to the Order, leaving others blank or with vague descriptions.
"Cork told us to follow the shore to find their camp… Is there anything about an old shrine?"
"There's several 'ruins' but only one at the shore…" Vermil pointed at the notes scribbled over a few places on the map. None included little miniatures marking what those buildings were exactly.
"There's the other shore he could've meant…" Ifan leaned over to look as well.
"So we split?" The black-haired man asked, looking around.
"I wouldn't be one to complain, besides, we have those flares to communicate, no?" Sebille pointed out.
Flares, an old trick of seamen shown to them by Beast. A spark of magic shot high enough to be visible even from miles away. It could even convey simple messages through frequency and size of the flares in a sequence.
The rest of the Sourcerers agreed with the plan, more or less enthusiastically. The assassin was quick to pull Lohse into her group, as a dedicated flarewoman, while the other was left with Vermil, Elane, Fane and Red Prince.
"So, how do we figure out if others found the sanctuary?" Elane was the one to ask.
"Assuming we wouldn't find each other till sunset, a quick sequence of three lights will stand for 'we found it' and two for 'we haven't found it'," the mercenary suggested. "Unless someone has any better ideas."
"I think we should go with that," the noble agreed, setting her sights on the nearby shore.
"Who's taking the map?" Vermil waved the rolled item in his hand questioningly.
"We'll take the woodlands, right Sebille? Might be of use…" Ifan's palm rose expectantly.
"Here's hoping we won't get lost instead…" the man handed it over to the other.
"Oh please, I have photographic memory. I will draw you another, should need be. Can we get moving?" The veiled undead nagged the party.
"You have what?" The elf and the rogue asked in unison only to earn an irritated huff from Fane.
"I can explain on our way, shall we?"
The scholar moved a few paces towards the path leading left down the hill unprompted. The rest shared an acknowledging nod between each other and they eventually split, wandering in opposite directions.
The road down meandered unbridled between plantlife and boulders, littering the surroundings. They weren't free yet, but the crisp smell of sea seemed to quadruple beyond the stifling walls of man-made horrors. The breeze ruffled their hair and hide and the day would've been perfect for sunbathing if they didn't have other priorities in mind.
"So, this photogeographic...memory of yours?" The elf's voice broke the awkward silence mid-way of their descent.
The skeleton, who was on the lead shook his head, although it was barely visible under his cowl.
"Photo-graphic. Imagine you can take any sight you see and preserve it for later in an accessible and compact manner. Now apply that to your memory and voilà, you get quite a useful tool."
"Can you really remember anything you see?" Vermil was one to pry.
"Temporarily, yes."
"Huh, I wouldn't actually need to study for tests if I had something like this."
"Have you attended the fabled University of Arx? The same that started spewing out Source Hunters thousand years ago?" The Red lizard interjected.
The ex-student smirked, turning his face to the Prince. "No other! And I am sad to inform you that it still does sometimes spew out a Source Hunter or two. The course became rather unpopular after Magisters came to be, though. The entrance exam is said to have killed people. "
"You actually restrain education behind 'entrance exams'? No wonder you are all so damn primitive, this is an outrageous approach." The Eternal mourned.
"Well, what was your schooling like then?" Elane chimed in.
"First and foremost, education was universal. One should be free to pursue whatever knowledge they wished, or at least it is how it should be in principle. People tend to steer towards what interests them naturally, and that makes for a great scholar-"
"Like yourself?" The elf chuckled.
'Alas," the undead corrected angrily. "Sometimes it can lead you to the traitor's-"
They left the sloped path and now followed the sandy beach along the shoreline, but their peaceful stroll came to an abrupt end when they spotted a Magister's corpse sprawled on the sand and scarcely growing grass marking the border with the island proper.
Fane crouched to examine the body, fallen face first. There was no sign of a conventional wound, instead the clothing and skin on the man's back have been seared nearly to a crisp. A powerful spell, the undead deduced, suspecting it killed the human in one hit.
"Magic…" Vermil spat the word as if it was sour. "Powerful too…"
As they looked around more and more corpses came into view, half submerged in the salty water or laying somewhere within the sprawling greenery of the forest's vestibule. Companions falling silent and alert, a voice could've been heard, coming from a small peninsula stretched further into the sea. The party retreated within the treeline and followed the shore up to the sandbar connecting the protrusion with the main body of the island.
Bushes, dwarf treelife and marine debris obscured most of their view but without a doubt someone was there, seemingly screaming at the heavens. After a while, a silhouette came within their field of view, causing the undead to jerk in recognition.
"It's her,' he growled." That wrinkled human that stole my mask. Please, I must speak with her…" he 'eyed' his companions looking for approval.
"The same who took off her collar on the ship and caused that entire mess…" Elane remembered, her jaw tightening at the memory.
Vermil shrugged. "Well, he said 'please'."
"I will stay behind." The lizard readied his sword and a new addon to his armoury, a magister shield . "We don't want to reveal all the cards to someone so dangerous."
Elane snuck out of the foliage and began walking towards the woman, Fane following and the rogue closing this unexpected welcoming committee.
As they neared, they could recognize the yelled words, or mantras, as she continually traced magical glyphs in the air that lapsed and exploded in a complete fiasco.
''My Lord! I've loved you. I've obeyed you. What's my sin? How long must I suffer?!" The gnarly witch screamed aloud with audible frustration that was tied to her failures.
Fane was fuming, as much could be told from his quick, stalwart steps and the violent motion with which he slid the cowl from his skull.
They were walking openly, and soon the woman turned at the sound of nearing footsteps. She was cradling Fane's mask in one hand, the other holding an unusual, black wand.
"You two…?"
They came to a halt in a relatively safe distance that both allowed talking and dodging any hypothetical fireballs.
"You're the one who crafted this unholy contraption." She shook the arm holding the mask."Most artifacts like this mask are long-lost, but you craft them anew."
Elane eyed the Eternal. Were those two having a nice chit-chat as the ship was going down when she wasn't looking? Or was this woman lurking somewhere, when Fane laid out his plight to the elf, while they were calves deep in the water.
"... And you!" Another accusation was flung before Fane even had a chance to answer. "You were impaled by the mast in the shipwreck! How come you're alive?"
Elane, who was the remark's target, shuddered.
"You seem quite informed for a common thief. Perhaps that lord of yours does not take lightly to larceny. Hand the mask over, now."
The old Sourcerer glowered at the undead. "Who are you? What are you?"
"Who are you? How were you able to see the ship as it went down without dying?" Elane butted in the conversation, taking a step forward and never leaving her eyes off the hag.
A chuckle turned into an all out dry cackle startled the trio, the woman was outnumbered, surrounded and still had the audacity to laugh in their faces. She was either mad or able to produce something more worthwhile than crooked sigils in the air.
"I believe you do deserve to know who will finally send you to the Void. Send regards from old Windego to-"
She dropped the mask, as her muscles turned limp like a puppet on a string. Her head jerked up, but her face was no longer human; her skin color faded to ashen gray, all orifices turning black as if she was hollow.
Her head snapped mechanically to the elf, and the voice that creaked out of her throat was no longer hers, it was completely alien to all but one of the Sourcerers able to hear it
"Sister, you swore an oath to never interfere in my affairs again. This is your last warning."
Windego's head rolled to aim the voids of her eye sockets at Fane.
Whatever the witch breathed next, came as an ominous, hissing hum, which's sound seemed to darken the sky. The air turned stinging cold as if late summer turned to winter in a matter of split seconds. But as soon as the disturbance came, it disappeared and the woman returned to her normal, albeit withered look. What's more, she seemed unaffected by what have just occurred and raised her wand, the gem atop lighting up with a furious flame.
"Fane?" Elane pulled her sword free from its sheath on her back expecting any reaction from the undead. She more than anticipated the tall order to let the woman live, given her unexpected knowledge.
But he stood frozen, and Windego's spell was nearing completion.
"Fane!" She dived to the side, pulling the scholar with her and they rolled into shallow water, a sphere of fire devouring the patch of sand they were standing on just a second ago.
Vermil, more or less predicting the turn of events, used the gap between projectiles to close on the witch's tail, trying to land a blow with his new heavy knives. A deflected lightning seared the sky, followed by a deafening thunder. Whatever spells the old woman was weaving, they were amped up with Source to maximum. Vermil heaved, feeling his hair electrified merely by being in the proximity of the spell. Windego tried to create some distance between herself and the quickfooted rouge, when a cone of flames engulfed her from behind. The fire looked and undeniably was dangerous, but the witch shook it off without any real damage to Red Prince's dismay. She hurled a rock of compressed sand at the lizard, whose shield intercepted the blow. The rock fell apart upon impact, sending dust into the prince's eyes.
Vermil, very much on edge, blitzed at the witch's exposed back. Soon Windego was caught in the cross-assault of rogue's knives and Prince's sword, the prisoner's garb she wore offering no protection from physical blows. Blades sank into the old flesh with little effort. Windego grasped the sword that pierced her abdomen and gurgled a curse at the lizard who, in response, twisted the hilt and pulled the weapon free. Vermil's knife was also jerked away, and the woman fell to her knees. The man finished her struggles with a clean cut of her throat from behind.
Elane breathed in relief seeing the battle was won quickly and with no casualties. She still stood in the water, while Fane was just getting back up.
"You two are okay?" Vermil asked the soaked pair as he was wiping his weapons clean against the witch's rags.
"Yeah…" The elf answered, climbing back to the small island with the undead.
Fane picked up his mask and dusted it off with a heavy sigh.
"Any ideas what just happened?" The question left the rogue's lips quite casually despite the tension still lingering in the air.
"I could not understand a word even though it spoke to me," the elf admitted, taking in the battlefield.
"I studied Dragonic and still the tongue sounded nothing like it. I know only a lick of Demonic, so I cannot say for sure whether it was it. Red, perhaps?" Vermil raised a brow at the lizard that joined them.
"It was faintly reminiscent of Demonic or Impish but nothing I could have understood," the royalty shrugged.
"You know Impish?"
"Anecdotally, their language is heavily based on the demon's, the tie is that it differs depending on the creature speaking. Truly bothersome to learn-"
The discussion continued on as Fane picked up the wand Windego dropped with his one free hand. He gasped, but the surprise was short-lived, as he got a better glance at the onyx, richly decorated contraption.
"Are you upset we could not get any more information out of her?" Elane strode closer to the undead, looking at the artifact he held.
"No, I am not," he mumbled, turning and twirling the item between his fingerbones.
"Something else of yours…?" The rogue asked, walking over to the less-than-happy about the crowd undead.
The lizard approached as well.
The wand was a thing of wonder indeed. Crafted from a black stone, there was a clear incision running from the split top all the way down the hilt. The crystal, a teal precisely cut rhombohedron, embedded between the branches on top seemed inert. Similar to smaller ones decorating the engravings on the cylindrical frame below. The etchings were strange as well. Symmetrical on each half, they depicted a city, with a great structure supporting the small crystal, symbolical it seems, at the top. The rest of the buildings stretched below in layers, depicting odd, digitigrade creatures attending to their daily duties among the streets.
"Are those…lizards…?" Elane hummed, unsure who the silhouettes were supposed to represent.
"If you can point me to a lizard with a human face…" The Red Prince sneered back.
The tiny peoples immortalized in the black surface were chimeras, with humanlike bodies but lizard legs and tails. What's more, most wore intricate robes or armors that suggested more than an advanced civilisation.
"Is it Eternal?" Vermil nudged the silent undead, who poked the creases with a finger lost in thought. Or as such he appeared.
"No. It certainly holds the influence…but is not a direct creation of my people," the skeleton finally answered, but his voice bore a hefty dose of grimness instead of his usual, scholarly indifference.
"Don't you think it's weird she was here of all places? Waiting for us? With something…so strange in tow?" Red creased his scaled noseridge, shooting a look back at the dead witch.
"We do not want to linger and wait until some Voidwoken comes to pick her up," Elane summed up, more than ready to leave.
"The elf is right, we should go and find this camp, or whatever it is…"
Fane slid his mask on his skull, turning it to the elven face and it instantly baked into his form the moment it found itself in the correct spot. In a blink-and-you-miss-it transformation Fane was back in the form Elane originally met him in. Black slick hair and crusty face of an older elf.
Vermil whistled a tune of impressed approval.
"Quite convincing," the elf' complimented candidly.
"Thank you," Fane offered a half-hearted bow of his head after which he moved with a jolt from his spot. "Shall we get on?"
The veiled undead did not wait for anyone before he made his way back to the dry land, sticking the wand they found behind his belt. The rest followed, exchanging startled or questioning looks.
They explored the rest of the beach, ending in another protrusion of the landmass into the sea. This one, however, had a lighthouse built on top, or at the very least, the ruins the tower had turned into. Vermil, being the most agile of the group, offered to climb the old and element-withered structure.
He started the journey from atop of Red Prince's shoulders and carefully placed his feet on the uneven surface. Elane stayed close to the tower through the ordeal, ready to catch the poor fool should his skill fail him. But the man advanced steadily. Finally, he pushed his fingers between one last gap of the stone wall and swung his other warm to latch onto the opening of collapsed bricks and crumbling mortar that split the upper tower in two, the rest of the path was quite easy to traverse, the ruined outer wall collapsing in a stair-like manner. The building wasn't tall, the other half of the tower rested on the bottom of the ocean for a long time now, but what was left still was a great observation point for the horizon and everything before it. Atop the void-infested waters, as Beast had predicted, floated a magister vessel with its distinctive branded sails, a telltale sign of an open hand with an eye in it, surrounded by a seven-pointed star. There was no movement to or from the vessel, nothing that would hint on the crew's intentions. The vessel was too far away for a human's voice to reach it, so Vermil communicated his findings openly, shouting down to his companions.
"A ship! Docked near the shore!"
"Magister one?" Elane yeled back.
"Yeah! Nothing else to report!"
"Come down safely..!" the same voice as before cried.
Vermil had another look at the sea, and the greenery behind his back. He couldn't tell where the trees ended or dwindled, that could hint on the sanctuary location. Making sure the tower offered nothing but rubble, he climbed down, more effectively than expected, since he found himself in the woman's arms after a short while and a stifled yelp.
"Thanks," the man offered a coquettish half-smile and slid down onto the sand, dusting his pants.
Beyond that point, the beach ended with a wall. The bottom of a drop-off that the waves fought restlessly to topple, resulting in a hill of loose rocks too dubious to try to cross. With that in mind, the four Sourcerers backtracked and sank in the vegetation, lushly covering the middle of the island.
The pathways through the plantlife, if there were any, have been mostly trails left by, going with an optimistic speculation, animals roaming the woodlands. Soon Red Prince and Elane had to unsheathe their swords just to make it through the undergrowth in a relatively straight line, all the while Vermil kept a keen ear to the surroundings, hand on the hilt of his weapon.
The clutches of wilderness eventually gave way to a wider clearing housing several platforms made out of decaying wood. The structures couldn't be too old, given the forest hasn't managed to retake the area.
Silently, without a creak on the withered planks, a shadow crept over the newcomers.
They dispersed along the small clearing, remaining within arm's reach to one another, scouring the odd structure.
"Some sort of abandoned Magister outpost?" Vermil murmured to the elf nearby.
"There was nothing marked in this a-"
Fane's voice was cut short as something black and writhing coiled itself around the scholar's elven neck and hoisted him up. Movement atop the platforms was enough to tell them they walked into an ambush, dusty or perfectly immaculate skulls staring down at them. They were surrounded by the undead.
The beast that snatched their companion slid out of the shadows, supporting its upper body on two, muscular arms. The dark, scale-covered body was mutated in strange ways, sprouting fins and spots that seemed to glow from within, their light cold and otherworldly. The deathly chill swept over the party instantly, indicating enough about the monster's origin.
It was a Voidwoken.
The beast let out a low, faltering sound, sensing the dread setting in the minds of the lowly creatures and traversed the platform with Fane in tow, crawling onto a bluff overlooking the depression. Old bones all around them crackled with menacing bloodlust. Some of those undead had spilled blood today, as much apparent from the splatters of crimson, somewhat fresh, flaunting dusty ivory and mated metal of their falling-apart garb. And then they came flooding down.
Elane grabbed the first skeleton that approached her and threw the form out of her way as she jumped with a start to get to the Voidwoken looming above. The undead crashed into the wooden support hard enough to bend it, compromising the structure where its comrades were preparing an assail of spells. The remains of a swordsman disattached upon the impact, but soon came rolling and re-assembling together.
Vermil's eyes opened a tad more when he saw this, clashing with a dead dwarven swashbuckler. He crossed his knives to take in the incoming swing of the heavy club, then, pushing the attacker away, screamed at his comrades.
"They're fucking bound! They're unkillable without sanctified weapons!"
The Red Prince bought his shield above his head to intercept a few ice bolts sent his way.
As they struggled amid the onslaught, Elane used the distraction of the mages to climb onto one of the undamaged platforms, leading onto the bluff the Voidwoken now occupied. From below, the elf couldn't have spotted the archer that kept low, only to get her by surprise. The arrow felt like a punch to the gut before it started stinging and burning, the tip could've been rusty. Or worse.
She clenched her teeth and jumped up for a powerful, overhead blow sending a shockwave through the rotten platform. Some planks gave way to the stress, the archer's foot falling down under a broken board.
With a spin, the elf was a pounce away from the monster and she did not hesitate for a split second. Blade drew low, keeping to the ground for a powerful undercut aimed at the finlike, unnaturally long tail that held the undead captive.
"Run…!" his voice rang in her head before the word spun and blurred.
The beast was only waiting for her to move, and when her muscles merely flexed to flick the blade at it, a webbed, two-fingered clawed hand struck faster than the eye could register. Her listless body was sent flying across the chasm, stopping on a stone outcrop and rolling down a wooden ramp, right into the hands of her backed into a corner companions.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Vermil whispered under his moustache as he saw the undead approaching, and the Voidborn nightmare leering right over their heads.
"Do not swear, itss rude.." Elane mumbled, her head felt watery, almost flushing about and she was utterly confused for a moment.
"Your face…!" the man cried.
Her hand moved to her cheek, festering lacerations marking her face in two, deep gashes. But the wounds seemed…alive. They were writhing. Red Prince jumped back as if he saw a victim of the wet plague, securing a spot up on the ramp. The archer above was still very much alive, and even crippled could send an arrow piercing one's skull if it wasn't for the lizard's defenses.
"How does one get those sanctified armaments?" he hissed, feeling another 'tuck!' on the other side of reinforced wood he was holding onto dearly.
"Priests! The-"
"Go onn, pray," came the heart-chilling voice, slick with hate but also bizarrely alluring, like oblivion's embrace.
Fane froze once more, hearing the daunting but nauseatingly familiar tone speaking words in mortal common language. The royal dignity and cold seriousness were absent from the lilt, as if the sound was put in the other's mouth to use.
"See if Rhalic responds, Vermil." The pale, cold lights of the Voidwoken's eyes were looking straight at the rogue as it addressed him.
Something sank in the man's bowels at this swift recognition, his mind reeling back from figuring out an escape route to plain and primal fear.
"Call to Zorl-Stissa, Red Prince. Surely she won't abandon you?" The black-scaled beast urged.
As if he hadn't thought about it before. The red maw scrunched, showing sharp teeth underneath a scaly lip.
"The first of the traitors." The fishlike maw full of sharp teeth snapped in disapproval. "Can you not heed warnings?"
The elf was still recovering from the injuries, with horror staring at her bloodied hand crawling with flesh-like maggots.
"And last, but not least, The Damned himself. The accursed Heretic. Fane, is that how you call yourself now?"
If Fane could, he would be rubbing his eye sockets furiously, hoping to dispel this nightmarish delirium.
But he was well aware it all was happening for real.
"How-" the scholar barked, turning his skull to the Voidwoken's jaws.
"Void knows everythingg," the hiss seemed to bring the Void's coldness with it as well.
"Do you have the teleportation g-" The Red Prince meant to use the dialogue as cover for his own inconspicuous whisper towards the human.
But the Voidwoken was aware of it, and none too happy for disrespect.
"Vermin…" It slammed its hand into the ground, defying logic and materializing on the wooden planks right above the Prince.
The air around the creature instantaneously turned oxygenless, cold and burning at the same time. The lizard caught a whiff of this cursed air, and now was squirming in convulsions. It twirled in ghastly laughter, sending the stuck archer up in the air with a smack of its tail.
While the beast enjoyed the torment, Elane's hand caught the lizard's tail and pulled him down, charging at the exposed, fin-covered chest.
The blade slid in the black flesh, the putrid blood trickling down her blade. It swung to repel the attacker, but, twisting the blade with disgusting smack, she bound them in arcane shackles that made the creature second guess-his attacks.
"YOU-"
Then Vermil came in, appearing from the shadows behind and plunging his blades in and out of the monstrous hide, drawing cascades of the Void-infused ichor out of its body. Persevering through his haze, the lizard rolled back onto his feet and, as he looked around, breathed in to shout a warning to the two fighting above. But the lightning came sooner. It zapped Vermil, sending him lurching back into the ruined part of the platform, his shoulder dangling over the edge of the wooden framework.
But the electricity followed the lacework of liquid, transferring down onto the ground and dazzling Elane, which in turn, dazed the chained Voidwoken. Its muscles recoiled from the shock, and Fane was set free, falling down from the platform. An ominous crack from one of his legs suggested that his aged bones didn't take the impact too well.
"Stay back!" he ordered, weaving his hands together in a spell.
Vermil had enough of an opportunity window to maneuver down from the elevation, but Elane was not as lucky. The rows of sharp, needle-like hooked teeth clenched over her shoulder forcing a pained shrill out of the woman's throat. And then the earth upturned and a giant obelisk of stone burst out of the ground, shattering the remaining wood above and piercing the Voidwoken, hoisting it several feet above.
The relentless maw latched deep onto the elf's flesh, forcing her up alongside it. Elane cried, her weapon being of little use in this situation. It was the precise throw of a shield that buried itself halfway in the monster's neck, severing muscles and nerves, that set her free.
Elane dropped down to her knees, the pain, disgusting and pulsating, made her cry. The tears thankfully came down indistinguishable among the grime and gore already covering her face and better part of her body. The earth gurgled and sputtered under the feet of the remaining undead and a mystically glowing spring resurfaced, flooding the area. Bones caught fire as if they were parchment while skin blissfully seeped the unseen power within.
Vermil sat flabbergasted, his feet wading through holy water, similar awe befell the royal prince. And he saw his wound mend on their own when touching the liquid.
"Please….I'm melting!" Fane's scream brought the two back to reality. The Eternal was stuck in the middle of this undead purgatory and undeniably would soon meet the fate of their adversaries, who were now only helpless corpses, clawing around like mad. Elane crawled onto the lowered ramp and pulled the undead onto the platform's remains.
Wind that blew across the sacred pond seemed to carry murmurs with it. Both rogue's and prince's heads shot back up, listening. Fane's attention was also taken away from his badly damaged feet. That faint hum…
"It wants me to find it…" he spoke, as if to himself.
"You two are alright up there?" The rogue yelled, still calf deep in the healing waters.
The scholar snapped back from his mental disarray and glanced at his surroundings. Including the elf squirming in a pool of her own Void-ridden blood.
"Are you blind you dimwitted moron? We almost died!" Fane flared-up, moving to inspect the tarnished crimson.
Elane sat curled into a ball, latching onto her shoulder, shaken with sobs.
The stale, deathly aura of the occurrence was almost palatable. But he once again cursed, tugging at the Source collar that made it impossible to tell the curse's origin and simultaneously, to find a way how to stave off symptoms.
"Can't you heal?"
"It…s…alive, Fane. It eats…me from inside."
The septic wounds were not a pretty sight, and if Fane had a stomach, he would feel sick upon but a glance.
"It must be some kind of Void influence…Damned thing."
Steps rang against the ramp and Vermil showed up holding a waterskin.
"Move aside, please."
The man shooed the undead away, who had to crawl, after having lost most of the bones of his feet. The wraps offered no protection, and it was a somewhat painful lesson.
The rogue held the woman's chin as he delicately poured the blessed water onto her wounded face. The liquid turned into blue flames upon contact with the cuts and she cringed at the reaction but soon enough the wound cleaned and started to heal. It took three waterskins and eventually seven splashes using Red's shield to purify the area, including the oozing puddle of blood flowing out of the impaled monster.
The bestial form hanged still, dead as one can get, but the necrotic stench the body radiated was enough to deter anyone from keeping to its company, it was a challenge enough to pry the shield out of its neck. The dwindling pool of Elane's blood was used to mend the undead in a necromantic ritual. Despite the fact that, logically, blood magic shouldn't bring harm to the dead, Fane still left out a yelp when the liquid clung and sank into his damaged bones, but shrugged it off since a more pressing subject resurfaced.
"I take it you heard it? The voice?"
Vermil nodded enthusiastically, the cause of Fane's wounds leaving his mind completely. "Uh-huh. A call, of sorts. Urgent one."
"Have you also heard something?" The scholar chimed in warily. "Any ideas whose voice it was?"
"Man's-"
"Female's-"
Human and lizard answered contradictory in unison.
"What did you hear?"
Elane refocused her mind on the spur of battle, but falling to remember anything distinguishable as a voice, besides the monster's speech that is.
"Someone spoke when the water appeared, ringing any bells?" Vermin interrogated.
The elf only shook her head at this, looking into the man's eyes for sincerity
"You cannot blame her, when you were dabbling in this bloody pond she sat here overtaken by the…contamination."
"What?" Vermil took a sharp turn towards the undead. "I don't hold anything against her! You, on the contrary, nearly impaled her on that rock too!"
"She was not hit." Fane spat back. "Would you rather the creature still slithered around?"
"Why did it recognize you in the first place?!"
"It recognized all of us-"
The tension around the arguing two was nearly visible with a bare eye.
The red-maned lizard seemed rather interested in merely witnessing this confrontation, if only for the sake of fishing out pieces of information whilst Elane was growing tired and frustrated.
"Remind me, which one of us got showered with a plethora of titles? What in the raging Voidborn hellhole was this thing…?
"I do not-"
The Prince chuckled, and nudged the progressively more and more overwhelmed elf. "The human has an interesting way to put together flowery sentences, huh?"
At this point Elane's hands were digging deep into her hair and tugging at it, she paid no attention to her comrade in sword whatsoever. The already worn out string came to a violent snap where her hands, abandoning their spot atop her head, slammed the two babbling faces together, resulting in a semblance of silence among the congregation.
"Do you really think this is the right place and the right time for this?" Her voice, booming with frantic horror, lashed at them not any worse than her fists before. "Do you want to see if there are more of those nearby?" Her pointed finger shot to the Voidwoken's corpse.
Vermil, now with a bloody nose and Fane, grimly agreeing with the logic offered themselves cold but conciliating looks of nonverbal agreement and got back to their feet.
The small dell now flooded with blessed water opened the way further into the island, showing the faintest signs of once letting through a highroad. With the help of fire magic, the group managed to secure a passage that was safe for them all to traverse and they disappeared behind the stone walls, leaving the carnage well behind.