Darien was eight when she lost herself in Gran Soren. Despite Chief Adaro's warnings to keep close, the young Cassardi girl found herself separated from her village's diplomats. It had happened so quickly. The capitol had bigger crowds then, before the dragon and its legion swarmed the province. Chief Adaro had offered to hold her hand, but Darien was adamant to prove her independence.

Then she got lost. She was trailing behind the chief who loudly fumed to Elvar regarding the city's nobility. Adaro was a proud man, and the meeting between the Cassardis delegates and the Duke's chamberlain went poorly. Not poorly, perhaps. There wasn't going to be open war. But her village was self-sufficient and community woven, and didn't take kindly to being ordered around. Especially by a "dress-wearing cox comb," as told by Adaro.

Darien heard the laughter of children and looked for the source. A group of four kids were near the fountain. One was leaning over the stone border and splashing water at the others. Darien wasn't going to linger long, but one of the boys, a skinny lad with messy brown hair, caught her eye and stared at her. She straightened herself and met his gaze. Being children, they both had the uncanny capacity to relentlessly stare each other down. The other kids stopped, and whispered amongst each other.

An older child, likely in his teens, came over to them. He was dressed nicely in Gran Soren's colors, and wore a short sword at his hip. His black hair was neatly combed back. He looked between Darien and the boy.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Without blinking or breaking eye contact, the boy responded, "This peasant is looking at me with strange eyes."

The newcomer leaned down slightly to Darien's eye level.

"I see naught of these strange eyes you speak of." He sighed, and straightened himself. "And it is distasteful for a man to insult someone they've just met."

One the girls grabbed the elder boy's arm. "Come play with us, Max! He can come, too!"

The boy, Max, gently shook her off his arm. "I am a squire now. I haven't time for sport. Now, away with you all."

He pushed the boy away, breaking the spell between him and Darien. She blinked and looked around with wide eyes.

"Is something amiss, lad?" the boy said.

Darien spun around, looking for familiar faces. "I'm a girl."

Max blinked, and then quickly bowed. "Ah, I apologize, my lady."

Darien shoved him off his feet and ran off. She sprinted down the road, hoping to catch up to the chief before anyone noticed her absent. But the buildings and streets were unfamiliar. She found herself wandering, too shy to ask for assistance. She swore quietly to herself, words that she would have been scolded for if she had been in the presence of an adult.

Darien stopped and leaned against the side of the wall. When no one was around to see, she began to cry angrily. She was young, then, and thought she'd never see the chief, Quina, or Valmiro again. Lost forever in a stone city.

She was too busy weeping to notice the quiet steps of the man approaching, and the three who followed him.

"Young one, are you lost?"

Darien's head shot up. A diverse group of four stood before her; an unarmed man, an archer, a warrior, and a mage. Darien could recognize their specialties from the weapons they carried. The man who led them, though, she hadn't a clue. The sun had lowered since Darien got lost, but still hung over the landscape. She had to squint her eyes to see the strangers because the light shone behind them.

Darien sniffed angrily, and nodded.

The archer, a dark-skinned woman with leather armor looked at the warrior. "So small," she said flatly.

The warrior nodded. The mage appeared to be an older man with a stubby beard. He said, "She is dressed like those in the Cassardis convoy. Perhaps we should return her to her people."

Darien sniffed angrily and titled her head down, ashamed, making herself smaller.

The unarmed man came closer to her. She couldn't clearly see his face, but when he knelt to her, she saw him suddenly express concern and sympathy.

"Would you like to come with us?" he said, "We can show you the way."

Darien nodded again, and wiped her eyes with her fist. They had a stoicism to them, but their words were kind and few in between. She liked how they didn't coddle her with concern and assurance. It made her feel like she could salvage some pride when this was over. A few times she caught the unarmed man's eyes, and he smiled at her.

She ended where she began, at the fountain square. The minute she saw Adaro, she abandoned her company and ran up to him. He leaned down and placed his hands on her shoulders. Elvar started to scold her, but he didn't seem committed to it, and instead told her he was happy she was alright.

"Ah, Minnow," the chief said, "I've yet faced a foe that has taken years off my life the way you have done. Come, now."

She turned around to thank her rescuers, only to find that they were gone.

Darien awoke with the memory. She blinked slowly, wondering how much of it was true, and how much of it was dream. It was odd how she could suddenly remember something long ago forgotten.

She quickly dressed herself, ignoring her stomach's growling. She retrieved her sword and shield, realizing that they had been cleaned. Darien wondered if that was how pawns entertained themselves when their masters slept.

She found Zillah conversing with a familiar salesman in the tavern, although the talk seemed one-sided on the man's part.

The pawn turned toward Darien's approach. "Good morning, Master. If you are hungry, I have procured us breakfast."

"I am hungry." Darien said, and sat at the table. She looked at the salesman across from her. "We've met, yes?"

"Yours is a face I shan't forget," The man said, making a quick bow. "I am pleased to see you still wearing my gift."

"Your gift," she said slowly, and then, "Oh! My cape. Yes. You were ambushed by goblins near Cassardis. Raynaldo?"

"Reynard, if it pleases you." He looked at Darien's leather cape. "Say, if you are in need of clothing better suited for a hero such as yourself, perhaps you'd consider looking at my wares. Last we met, you were goblins-bane, yes. Now I hear talk of you being Arisen. Surely you are in need of equipment to fit such a title."

"Reynard!" Asalam said as he approach, "I said you could stay here so long as you do not bother my customers."

"Pray hold your tongue. This is no mere customer. I, in fact, happen to be an old acquaintance of the Arisen, here."

Darien ate her meal silently. The bread was warm and the cheese satisfactory; nothing splendid, but it tasted divine to the hungry fighter. There were even a handful of grapes. She glanced at the near empty plate in front of Zillah. There were a few breadcrumbs left.

"Would you like the rest of my grapes, Master?" she asked.

Darien wondered if Zillah was trying to be nice. "No, you eat them," she said, "You'll need your strength as much as I."

"If this man is a bother you," Asalom said, "all you need is say so."

Darien swallowed the last mouthful of bread. "He's not bothering me. Can either of you tell me where to find the Pawn Guild?"

The innkeeper nodded thoughtfully. "It'd make sense for an Arisen to do business there. I can help you with that. It is located in the Craftsman's Quarter. Head straight out of this inn and down the street. You'll find the guild located near the wheat field. When you are finished, I shall point you in the right direction."

"You have my thanks." Darien looked at the salesman. "Reynard. I am sure we'll do business soon."

Darien stood and followed the innkeeper out of the building, Zillah close behind. She and the pawn followed Asalom's directions, and soon found themselves passing through an open gate of one of the city's massive walls. When they exited, they stood on the trail overlooking the Craftsman's Quarter. The houses were rustic here, and the path unpaved.

Darien followed it down, where it descended into the area. A large man with a long hammer strapped to his back stood beside the entrance to the closest building. He caught Darien's eye, and lifted his right hand. It was the same scar Zillah and the others had.

Darien nodded to him and entered the building. Inside, the structure was just as unimpressive as it was on the outside. It seemed well enough kept, however. A few wooden tables sat alongside the wall. There was a notice board not unlike the one Darien knew back in Cassardis. One man and one woman observed the posted request before they departed together. Darien made out the near lifelessness of their eyes as they past. Pawns. Everyone in the building were pawns, Darien concluded. She looked down the room. On the opposite wall lay a riftstone, set like a shrine upon stone steps. Unlike the one in Cassardis, this one seemed alive, and pulsed with blue light.

Darien approached the stone. A man stood before it and turned at her approach. Unlike his kinsmen, he went without weapons and armor, and wore a fancy white tunic with dark blue sleeves and collar. He was belted at the waist, and wore dark breeches tucked into high socks. He had dark blond, shoulder length hair and a smooth rectangular face. When Darien approached he showed her the scar upon his hand and bowed in pawn fashion.

"Welcome, Arisen," he said, "We have awaited your coming. This pawn is called Barnaby. I tend to the affairs of the Pawn Guild."

"I see," Darien said. "Well met, Barnaby. My name is Darien, should you or your kind ever see fit to call me something other than Arisen."

"You are of the highest importance to the Pawn Legion." he replied as if that answered something.

Darien cleared her throat. She was aware of the small group of pawns that came in and watched silently from the doorway. Once again, all eyes were on her.

"Have there been other Arisen?"

"There has been, but we have not seen them in many decades. To this pawn's knowledge, you are the only Arisen who has stepped forward, and the only one who currently seeks the dragon."

"How did you know?" Darien paused, and said, "Never mind that. I am a bit overwhelmed. I knew I had to come here, but now I am at a loss on what I should do."

Barnaby nodded thoughtfully, and Darien wondered if he understood her duress. Surely she wasn't the first Arisen he met.

"For now, let us rejoice in the coming of the Arisen, the light that guides the legion."

Barnaby made the slightest of gestures to the pawns in the doorway, who slowly let themselves in. Darien soon found herself centered. She turned to the new arrivals.

Well, here goes. "You call me Arisen, but my name is simply Darien. I'm not sure I deserve your allegiance, but I will do everything in my power to be worthy of the legion…Thank you."

As far as she could tell, there wasn't a single disapproving look in the crowd. But that didn't mean much in this situation.

"I will be here for you," Zillah said. "And you've the Pawn Legion at your back."

Darien tried to start conversations with some of the pawns. They were pleasant enough, and not as closed-mouth as she once thought. In fact, once she got them speaking, it was difficult to stop them. One would ask how her journey to the city was, and when she mentioned the harpies, three others would offer advice on how to fell the beasts. Then two more commented on the nature of fire and monsters. Then another would retell the history of the main roads and the dangers of bandits. Then another…

Darien watched them converse, and sipped silently from the mug of ale that found itself into her hands. If Zillah had a quill, she'd likely be taking notes. Darien couldn't help but grin at the sight of her pawn listening intently to the others.

She downed the last of her drink, realizing that the guildmaster had come quietly to her side.

"So, Barnaby," Darien said, "what sort of business does the Pawn Guild deal in?"

"Mercenary work, for the most part. Sometimes we are hired for escort duty." Barnaby looked at the notice board. "We also fulfil requests posted either here or in the alehouse." He turned his eyes toward the pawns around Zillah. "The guild's initial purpose is to serve as a place of rest for pawns, and as the gate to the Everfall."

"The Everfall?"

"The Everfall lies beneath Gran Soren. 'Tis a place of great importance to our kind."

"I see." She side-eyed the pawn. "So it's sacred?"

He nodded. "Only a selected few pawns may enter, and the Arisen. The Everfall predates the city itself. Legend has it that the Arisen who passes through each of its chambers will be granted an untold power."

"That sounds intriguing. Perhaps I will try this pilgrimage, someday."

"Perhaps, although it would be impossible to attempt now."

Darien placed her cup down on the table harder than she intended, and eyed the pawn. She took a deep breath. "Barnaby, is there aught you want to say?"

He looked at her. "It grieves me to burden you so, but I fear trouble brews. I would beg your assistance in this matter, if it pleases you."

To the pawn's defense, he did seem apologetic. In fact, Barnaby seemed more emotive than any pawn Darien had seen. He wasn't smiling or particularly outgoing, but Darien felt he was more…human? She couldn't place it.

"I'd be happy to assist you."

Barnaby looked – and there it was again: emotion – relieved.

"You have my thanks. I will show you the entrance to the Everfall."

Darien looked over her shoulder. "Zillah?"

The strider immediately separated herself from the remaining pawns and came to the Arisen.

"Yes, Master?" she said.

"Come. Barnaby has something for us."

Darien turned and followed the guildmaster down a flight of stairs. It was darker there, with few candles lit. The room was wide with a flow ceiling. It wasn't unlike a wine cellar, and Darien assumed that to be the case, having seen number barrels in the corners and being used as makeshift tables and seats.

On the opposite of the room was a steel gate. When Darien and Zillah approached, Barnaby began unlocking it.

"We pawns have long served as keepers of the entrance to this place," he said.

Darien heard the click of the lock. Barnaby stood to the side of the entrance and regarded her.

"Since the dragon's coming, a strange aura has filled the Everfall. A…presence. If it be some omen of evil to come, we cannot allow it go unchecked. I ask that you seek out the cause of the change, or some proof of what's happened."

"This doesn't seem unreasonable," Darien said, although Barnaby's words unnerved her.

"The Everfall is a place unique unto itself. This is not a simple task, nor a favor I ask lightly." His voice raised with fortitude. "Which is why I ask you, Arisen. Please, lend us your aid."

"I can certainly do that for you, Barnaby." Darien said, smiling.

She finally figured out what it was about Barnaby that disturbed her. She had gotten slightly more familiar with pawns' stoicism. Barnaby was different in that none of his emotions, however dim, reached his eyes. He was purposely acting, and Darien didn't know how to feel about that.

"Arisen?"

Darien spun around. Two pawns had entered the room. One was obviously a mage, with faded grey robes and a silver staff in hand. He had the appearance of a young lad, with a round, pale face and curly black hair swept back. The other was a warrior with a long sword. He was a tall, round man, and wore a leather tunic, brown breeches, and a faded cape that barely reached the ground. His blond hair was tied back into a low ponytail. The pawns were certainly a diverse group.

The mage said, "Forgive our intrusion, but is the Arisen venturing into the Everfall?" His voice was of an adolescent, and almost musical. "If so, I would ask to join her."

"And I as well," said the warrior.

Darien looked and Barnaby who stared back at her. "Oh," she started, "They are certainly welcomed to join us." She looked at the visitors. "You may."

The two pawns approached. Even though the mage looked young, he stood taller than Darien. "I am Bryce, and I am skilled in magicks, Arisen. I believe I can be of use to you." He looked up at the strider. "And Gilroy."

"Bryce. Gilroy." Darien looked back at Barnaby. "I am ready."

The pawn handed an unlit lamp to Darien. She glanced back at the pawns and saw that they were all equipped. Before she could dread the obvious darkness they were about to enter, Darien pulled the gate open and descended the narrow staircase. The sloping hallway was wide enough for them to pass through, but Darien felt as if the walls were pressing against her. She kept her face passive, but clenched her teeth.

Then they were in openness. Darien didn't know exactly what she was seeing. She slowly stepped forward into the dark vastness. At first, Darien felt she was in an underground tower, but realized that the room was a massive spiral staircase of sorts. Thousands of pillars lined the passage that went down. Darien walked to the edge. The only light was from their lanterns and from the hanging lamps spread periodically around the area.

She looked down and her mouth fell open. She could hardly see the bottom floor. A fall from that height would undoubtedly kill her. There seemed to be some sort of light down below.

Darien stepped back from the edge, realizing that Zillah was holding onto the back of her cape.

"Allow me to light your lantern, Arisen."

Darien lifted it in front of the pawn but didn't hand it to her. "Watch." She waved her left hand pass the object, once, then twice before a minute flame came to life.

"I didn't realize you had skill in magick, Master."

"Quina taught me. I never start a fire naturally."

She turned and led the pawns. The more they walked, the more she realized how big the place was; and to think that all this was beneath Gran Soren.

"Spiders, Ari-"

"No," Darien said, and sped her pace.

She didn't fancy the thought of being so deep underground, but the pawns' company helped. Darien pondered why Barnaby couldn't have done this himself. Yes, the Everfall was vast, but surely even an unarmed pawn could manage to scout the place himself. Or, perhaps, he could have hired his own kinsmen to do the task.

Darien abruptly stopped. She strapped her lantern to her belt before she stepped forward. At first she thought a pile of rags littered the ground before them. Upon closer inspection, she realized they were corpses.

Darien neared the dead, but couldn't help but lean back from the bodies. She lifted the back of her right hand to her nose. "Are these pawns?"

"That's unlikely," Bryce said, moving to the Arisen's side. "When we 'die' our bodies disappear and we return to the Rift."

Darien knelt beside the one closest to her. The corpse must have been a woman in life, her dress decayed and weathered. The body was of rotted flesh and smelled of stale meat and dirt. She surely wasn't an expert in cadavers, but there didn't seem to be any obvious signs of how the woman died or why she and others were there.

"What do you supposed happened here?"

"I imagine these people died long ago," Zillah said.

Darien stared at the pawn deadpanned. She sighed. "If it happened long ago, then whatever killed these people should be long gone as well."

She was comforting herself. Darien looked for their agreement, and instead she watched something strange happen. Zillah's normally impassive face changed to widened eyes and her mouth fell open.

Movement from her peripheral vision caught her attention. Darien looked down in time to see the dead woman lift her head and turn toward her. Its eyelids shot open, revealing brown-grey orbs for eyes. The corpse's hand shot out and grabbed Darien's right wrist.

Darien swore and jumped back, pulling the dead woman with her. Zillah came to her side, and severed the corpse's hand with her daggers. She and the pawns backed up. The rest of the corpses, a total of seven, began to rise.

"The walking dead," Gilroy said, and drew his broadsword.

Darien drew hers as well. Bryce thrust his staff forward, releasing a gust of wind. The corpses staggered, but then began slumping forward. Zillah shot an arrow that went through one of the creature's neck. It kept going.

Darien held her sword straight out before her. The dead woman stumbled toward her, arms outstretched. She walked into the tip of Darien's sword, impaling herself. She struggled to keep the woman from reaching her. Darien swung her sword right as hard as she could. The momentum threw the walking corpse off. The dead woman staggered near the edge and fell. Darien turned her attention to the pawns. One of the corpses was aflame. It stumbled determinedly before it collapsed.

A corpse came toward Darien. She raised her blade.

"I bless your sword with holy light!" Bryce called.

Darien's sword lit with a white glow. She slashed the corpse across the chest. The walking dead slowed and convulsed. Darien swung her sword across the neck, and the head rolled to the ground. The undead were…dead.

Darien looked at each of the pawns. They breathed heavily except for the mage, who was busy chanting a healing spell. Darien shook her head, and mentally added undead to the list of monsters she encountered in the last two weeks.

They encountered more of these restless dead, but Darien grew used to them. That was an eerie thought on its own, but so long as her blade was blessed, they were not too terrible. Horrifying, maybe, but not harder to face than harpies. Not to say she wasn't tempted to turn back.

Darien glanced over the edge of the path. They were over halfway to the bottom.