Kyrik took that as his cue to leave and stalked past the rest of the coven. The rest of the necromancers didn’t seem to pay him any mind, babbling to themselves or working on new spells. He felt like some sort hatchling under a sheet, scuttling along to prank his sibling or parents. A pang of loss struck him at the thought and he was forced to stop.

Staring at his claw, he could still see the blood. When he blinked, it vanished. He let out a small noise; visions like these began to happen so often lately. He’d wake up screaming, see day-visions of past events, the like. He never experienced anything like it, and Kyrik was starting to grow concerned. Talking with others never really helped, either. Trying to compensate for trauma, he was told.

If it was just his mind processing events, why was it stalling?

Kyrik was met by a pair of winding staircases. Where they lead, nobody knew! It was enough for him to break from whatever tricks his brain pulled, and he craned his neck up. He saw a few occupants near the top, but couldn’t identify what creature they were. Maybe he should go up and ask. Flying up was dangerous in these tight corners, so Kyrik resorted to the slow climb.

Tink!

Kyrik held his head in recoil, nearly tripping off the set of the railing before he caught himself.

“When I heard you were oblivious,” A slightly muffled - but no less imposing - figure spoke, “I didn’t think it would be so literal.”

Kyrik swallowed slightly. He knew who it was, even if he never had a conversation with him. His eyes slowly ran up the ebony and crimson armor that belonged to a tall, bipedal feline. An abysean – the third and final major race to be on two legs.

“Hi um…Lei.” Kyrik said nervously.

The abysean’s blood-red eyes widened, the only way to tell his expressions, as the lower part of his face was obscured behind a fanged muzzle-like mask. Despite this, the pale ghost-like fur was more than enough to confirm his vampyrism. Even if he didn’t already know, the skulled armor alone would tell Kyrik that he was one of Azulia’s champions. Macabre was the first word that came to mind, which Kyrik found to be strange.

Abyseans typically were against showing bone, as it went against their belief of death. Admittedly, Kyrik didn’t know the full scope of it, but to see Lei so brazenly offend his entire race…well, it wasn’t surprising given the stories he’d heard.

“A simple ‘hi’?” He towered over Kyrik. “You are nothing like I expected, reaper.”

Somehow, Kyrik wasn’t that surprised he knew. “I’m sorry to disappoint?”

“No, you’re not.” Lei’s eyes narrowed. There was a hidden, malefic mirth in his voice. “I am curious as to what powers you hold. Care to enlighten me?”

“Not here.” Kyrik’s eyes shifted away. “Maybe some other time?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that; I know the perfect location to go!” He laughed and began to walk back up, his metal boots clanking loudly. How did no one notice him come down? Better yet, how did he move under such heavy weight?

“Were you looking for me?” Kyrik eventually asked.

“No,” He replied. “Yet I’d be remiss if I let you wander the halls alone.”

“I can defend myself.” Kyrik puffed out his chest slightly.

Lei laughed at him. “Then you certainly won’t mind proving it to me.”

Once they reached the top, an unsightly scene that at first Kyrik assumed to be a prank waited for them. Another abysean, face-down in a pool of blood. In her back, a broken piece of bone. She was dead, and recently so.

“Oh,” Lei bent down to investigate. “Now that’s interesting.”

“How could this possibly be interesting?” Kyrik fixated on the bone in horror. He had seen this before. But it was impossible.

He turned back slightly, eyes grinning. “It means that your stay is going to be that more fun…”