There was a flash of steel as the sun hit the blade heading towards him. Time slowed and yet Elias found that he couldn’t move his body quickly enough. He watched the blade come closer and closer—saw the vicious look on the wielder’s face and, distantly, heard the sound of his own name spoken in a desperate tone. Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to move. 

The impact came as a surprise. The world spun and then he was on the ground while something warm hit his face and slowly dripped down along his cheek. When Elias looked up, the horror of the scene was too surreal for him to process at once. 

He saw the familiar shape and the sword piercing through them, stained a vivid red tone that would forever be engraved into his mind. Green eyes—so like his own—turned his way. 

A scream was caught in his throat as he choked on a grief too deep to put into words.

Elias awoke with a start, his heart beating so wildly he could feel the rhythm pounding in his ears. A shadow of the panic he’d once felt slowly drained out, though the swell of grief remained for a while still. He lay there for a moment, feeling the chill in the wind stinging his face and feeling strangely disoriented as he looked up at an unfamiliar ceiling. 

After a while, he sat up slowly, still groggy while memories from the previous day came back to him. His body ached a bit from having slept on the floor, but it was better than spending the night outside. Not to mention, he would have likely have had to deal with a certain necromancer’s complaining if they’d been stuck out in the rain. 

It was this thought that made him realize he was very much alone. He looked around and found only a pile of neatly folded blankets and nothing else. Cassian was gone. 

He shot up to his feet, looking around for anything that pointed to the whereabouts of the necromancer, but still too sleep-addled to process much of what he was seeing. He still rushed up the stairs and peered into the rooms briefly. Not seeing any signs of Cassian or even a glimpse of the familiar head of silvery hair, Elias made his way out the door. 

The morning was chilly, with the first rays of the sun just barely emerging from over the horizon. Their fleeting warmth went unnoticed by Elias as he looked around the clearing while his bare feet tread on still wet grass. Cassian was nowhere to be seen and Elias felt some panic at the thought that the necromancer might have left at some point during the night. If so, catching up to him would prove to be difficult. 

With that thought in mind—along with the knowledge that Cassian still had the fragment of the staff with him—Elias hurried back inside. He quickly began to gather his things, 

“Why did I think I could trust that conniving, lanky bast—”

“Good morning to you too, thief.” 

Elias didn’t quite jump at the familiar monotone, but it was a close thing. When he turned around he was met with Cassian, looking mostly unbothered by the insults and more so by Elias’ existence. There was still something in his dark gaze that took some of the edge from the otherwise sharp look in them. To Elias, it almost looked like the necromancer was amused. 

At having given me fright, no doubt, his mind supplied rather uncharitably. 

“Where have you been? I looked everywhere for you,” he said, still clutching his cloak and having managed to pull on a single boot. Elias watched as Cassian took in these details and thought he saw the necromancer’s mouth twitch into what he would call the ghost of a smile. It was as close to one as Elias had seen on Cassian, in any case. 

“Then it looks like you can’t even do that much right. I haven’t left this place since we first arrived.” For the time being, Elias chose to ignore the seemingly obligatory insult. Or maybe he was just getting used to it with the way Cassian threw them at Elias every time the necromancer opened his mouth to speak. “We came here in search of something, I just thought it would be a good idea to get an early start. The sooner we leave the better.” 

Elias hated that he agreed with Cassian. He hated a lot of things related to the necromancer, to be honest. 

“Well, maybe if you bothered to share what we’re supposed to be looking for I might be able to help,” Elias pointed out. He wasn’t really surprised at the lack of communication. Not when Cassian had seemingly lived the life of a hermit for years. Cooperation didn’t appear to be the necromancer’s strong point. 

“No need, I already know where it is. I only thought to come up here and see if you were still around. A pity that you are.” 

Elias wished Cassian would wait until later in the morning to start with his rude comments. He considered asking the necromancer for that much when something in the words Cassian had just spoken registered in his tired mind. 

“Up here? What do you mean up here?” 

Cassian looked like he very much wanted to avoid answering. Which was unfortunate because Elias wasn’t going to let him get away with that. After a moment—and with a very reluctant look on his face—Cassian turned and motioned for Elias to follow. Elias took only a second to slip on his other boot before hurrying after the necromancer. When he caught up to Cassian, he was standing in the next room, which looked to be some sort of workshop. 

The walls were covered in shelves, themselves filled with books and items that Elias couldn’t come up with a use for. Dust-covered jars were lined up neatly, all in different sizes and with contents the thief didn’t want to stop and consider. The bones he could make out were bad enough. 

In the middle of the room was a large table, bowls and jars resting atop it along with pages of what looked to be spells. The sigils scribbled onto them were vaguely familiar, thanks to the time Elias had spent with Cassian. He only glanced around, wishing he could take the time to really take in the room, before his eyes focused on Cassian. 

The necromancer was standing at the back of the room, clearly waiting for Elias. When he approached, Cassian turned to the rug at his feet, an elaborately embroidered piece of fabric that looked to be in better condition than most other things in the cabin. 

Cassian crouched down and laid a hand atop it, murmuring in that odd language Elias had no hope of ever deciphering. With a raised brow, he watched as glowing sigils appeared on the rug—well hidden amidst the intricate pattern that decorated it. A moment later, the rug was gone and in its stead was an opening leading down into a dark void. Stone steps led down, disappearing into the ominous darkness Elias just knew he would not enjoy going into. 

“That’s not ominous in the least,” he commented. 

“You can always stay up here if you’re that frightened.” Cassian looked at Elias with a smug expression. It wasn’t particularly obvious but to Elias’ horror, he realized he’d reached a point where he could discern the necromancer’s mild changes in expression. Elias suppressed a shiver. 

“I’m not frightened,” he argued. Cassian didn’t look convinced. 

“If you say so.” With that, Cassian turned back to the opening in the floor and began to make his way down. 

Elias watched as Cassian walked further into the darkness until even his pale head of hair had vanished from view. For a second, he stood there, looking down into the opening and wondering just what he would find if he ventured into it.

Like I have a choice, he thought, resigned. Already he could imagine just how insufferable Cassian would be if he failed to follow. With a sigh—and hoping he wouldn’t regret going after Cassian—Elias began to descend the steps. 

It grew cooler as he went deeper into the darkness, careful with each step he took. Falling and breaking his neck before ever coming close to taking his revenge on Ethelred would be bad enough. Doing it where Cassian could witness it all and laugh would be humiliating. Besides, he didn’t trust that the necromancer wouldn’t bring him back just to laugh in his face.

Thankfully, Cassian had lit some lanterns, their cool glow lending the place an air of eeriness. Shadows danced across the stone walls, like ghosts still hunting the long-abandoned room. The air was stale and damp, a cloying scent filling Elias’ nose before he’d even reached the bottom of the stairs. When he’d finally stepped off the final step, he paused to take in the room before him. 

If asked to describe it in one word, Elias would likely call it a dungeon. The stone walls were lit in sickly yellow tones bordering on green that emanated from magic-powered lanterns. As the light washed over the room, Elias could make out much of the same sort of things he’d seen in the room above—shelves of ingredients and books, yellowing scrolls stuffed into the empty spaces, a table of thick wood littered with scratches—but there was more than that. 

The first thing that truly stood out to him were the bones. 

They were everywhere he looked. Most—thankfully—were clearly animal bones. Small skeletons were suspended in the air, wings of bone stretched out in a morbid display. Skulls of varying shapes and sizes lined a wall with their void eyes staring at Elias. He looked away, feeling a sudden chill at the sight. Instead, Elias turned to Cassian, who was standing near the back of the room and looking down at the floor. A lantern hung at his side, gripped loosely in his hand. 

Slowly, Elias approached, not wanting to take the necromancer by surprise and get cursed in the process. Once he was close enough, he could make out a magic circle on the floor. Meticulously drawn sigils were beginning to fade, the dark shapes of them scuffed and scratched. Elias paid little attention to that. Instead, he focused on the dark stains long-since dried upon the stone floor. 

“What is this?” Elias asked, his voice heavy with apprehension. He supposed a part of him didn’t really want to know the answer to that question. 

“This is where I died.”