“It’s of no use… He’s dead. Get that off of him... It doesn’t need to get wetter than it already is.”

“The whole of it is soaked in blood… It would be useless.”

“Then leave it here, for hell’s sake… I don’t care. We have to get out of here as fast we can.”

At that moment the branded boy dared to intervene in the talk that went on between Zaster and Ehrir.

“But… We can’t just leave his corpse like that.”

“We don’t have time to bury him”, Zaster uttered while looking around cautiously. He then sighed. The sound came out sore and incredibly deep. “Fine… I’ll burn him. The whole area is damp enough to not be damaged. I’ll extinguish it quickly, too. Now… Step back, please.”

Ehrir followed the Unliving’s command without a second thought. He felt empty when looking at the dead guard laying on the ground in front of him. The Undone One and his companions tried to stop the bleeding from the severed arm. Within moments they found out that the creature had cut deeply into the man's neck and penetrated his lower back with one of its claws. The wounds were far too severe to be helped by the primitive tourniquets and bandages made from the undead man's cloak. It took just a few minutes for the guard’s expression to freeze, for his sharp, painful breathing to stop and for his eyes to become glassy. He was perfectly still now. Dead.

The Undone One felt tears welling up on the edges of his eyes. The pace of his heart fastened. The adrenaline helped him stay relatively calm while trying to tend to the man’s wounds, but now every trace of it was gone. The corpse invoked powerful disgust and fear within him, and the pool of blood that had formed around it just added greatly to these sensations. Ehrir turned to the side. He couldn’t endure the mess that danced within his stomach and vomited loudly. That removed the heaviness in his gut, at least. The branded boy seemed pale and weak, too, but was far from the Undone One’s situation. Zaster, on the other hand, wasn't particularly moved by the event, although it was hard to tell the Unliving’s emotions by his dried and rotten face. In any case, his movements were calm and steady. He effortlessly managed to create a whirl of fire and let it engulf the guard’s body. He also showed profound control over the flames. Ehrir could only watch as the dead man burned to ashes without the fire touching anything in the vicinity. Zaster's control over Destruction (that was wild and uncontainable by its nature) was phenomenal and hinted toward immense talent in that field of sorcery. Ehrir couldn’t show his admiration towards the zombie – it posed as an enough of a difficulty to just try and stand up front and not throw up – but he had a lot of it.

When Zaster was done with his job, the whistling winds started scattering the ashes of the deceased man, leaving only the huge stain of blood in the half-melted snow. The Unliving left the remainder of his soaked cloak to be eaten by the flames, too. Now he wore only a fur shirt and pants with ankle-high leather boots. He seemed pretty comfortable in that attire, too.

“Let’s go”, he mumbled with a stale, serious tone before starting to lead them through the forests and back west towards the camp. All three of the disciples were silent, their eyes constantly moving in an attempt to catch every little movement in the environment. Ehrir’s hand was gripping the hilt of the ‘frigid blade’ unconfidently. The youngling in front of him (his name was Nidor) had his own weapon – a double-edged short sword with simple handle and small guard. He was holding it in his right hand and looked ready to use it. The axe belonging to the dead guard was hanging on his waist. That made Zaster the only one amongst them without any weapon on him, not even a knife. The Unliving man was relying solely on his Destruction magic and quick reflexes for protection against whatever roamed the woods.

“I’m sure that… Whatever it was, it won’t come again. It behaved like an animal… Out of hunger, to put it simply. Now that it has a piece of meat to feast on, it should stay occupied for some time", mentioned Zaster. His words were hopeful, but uttered in a very grim manner.

“What will we say once we get back to the camp?” Ehrir almost whispered. He still felt dizzy and disgusted, but at least had regained some of his spirit.

“We must urge the masters to come and investigate… And kill this fucking thing!” Nidor exclaimed, his words hateful down to their core. “It slaughtered one of us… We can’t just let it live on”, he added in a more balanced way.

“We don’t have the say about whether we should chase the creature or not.” Zaster shook his head. “Although I’m all in about burning it to ashes. Or slicing its head off, for that matter.”

The three men didn’t say a word afterwards. Not until the expanse of the quiet forests, cliffs, gorges and ravines were behind their backs and the familiar tents lied before their eyes. Only one lonely guard could be seen patrolling around, covered in his fur cloak from head to toe. Even the horses were crammed up in a separate tent. It was quiet enough for the Undone One to clearly sense that he and his companions were the first group to return.

“You’re coming pretty early”, said the crude-looking, raw-sounding man that watched over the camp. “Why is it only you three? Where is…”

Zaster stopped the guard's words with a sharp and clear gesture.

“We can’t talk about it right now. We need to discuss something with the masters right now. Where are they?”

“Only the mistress is here.” The man waved his hand towards Salelia’s tent. “She’s in there. The master… He went off to somewhere.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Dunno where.”

“Then we’ll see her.”

***

“Is the tea any good?” asked Salelia. She was sitting on a Manipulation-made chair right beside the sphere of raging blue fire that heated the tent. The tea that she served the three disciples was made thanks to that ball of flames and helped them warm up quickly. They would be fine even without the steaming cups full of liquid. After all, the innards of the tent were hot enough for the witch to walk around in just a knee-length dress that left her pale shoulders bare.

“It's delicious”, Nidor answered. He, Ehrir and Zaster were sitting on the floor with their cups in hands, their cloaks, coats and weapons resting besides them. “But as I said, mistress, we have to…”

“I know.” Despite her soft, reassuring tone, the witch looked serious and dark. Understandably, she wasn’t pleased with the news at all. Not just the guard’s death, but also the appearance of the strange creature itself made her seem unhappy. “We’ll go there, young men. But you need to be well-rested, dry and calm if you think you can help me. Speaking of which…” Her beautiful eyes slowly crawled across the faces of the three disciples before her. “If you all want to go, I won’t stop you. But you should know that I can handle this matter myself. I only need one of you to show me the way. The others can rest here and regain their strength. That is up to you, though.”

The apprentices looked at each other with several seconds. The same fire burned in the eyes of each one of them, even in Ehrir’s. Zaster voiced their collective, unspoken will.

“Mistress… Thanks for the offer, but we would all like to come and help you.”

The witch smiled sweetly at the undead man’s words.

“Very well, then. Drink your tea while I go out and inform the others that I’ll be heading out to the woods.”

With these words the mistress stood up and headed towards the exit. But before she left, she turned her head towards the apprentices and shot them with a smile.

“Don’t worry, boys”, she gently murmured. “We’ll take the threat down – and avenge one unnecessary death. For sure.”

***

The walk back through the mountains was just as tough as the previous time, although the witch made it seem like a jog through an empty street. The snow around her just opened and her step was graceful, light and calm, in contrast with the three men in front of her that pushed on with difficulty. They asked her to walk in front of them at one point, but then noticed that the snow closed right after she walked through it.

Once the group reached the part of the forest where the guard met his death, the ominous atmosphere returned with full force. Yet, Salelia didn’t seem to be influenced by it in the slightest. She walked with straight posture and calm expression. She seemed emotionless upon seeing the pool of blood left by the corpse. Only quiet specks of anger flashed in her eyes.

"After me", the witch commanded and started to lead the three men.

The next half an hour were spent lurking around the woods silently and carefully. The group desperately searched for the creature, chasing after barely visible marks in the snow and investigating every sound. All of this - to no avail. Until they found the door.

It was made of solid basalt, plain, clean and simple, built in the side of a narrow hill. It looked like planned to not stick out within the relatively rocky environment. Yet, its deep grey color made it distinguishable amongst the snow like an infected tooth amongst healthy ones. The fact that it was slightly ajar didn't help, either.

As the witch and the disciples neared it, they saw a thin frame around the door upon which were enscribed words in Emhaelic.

Salelia began reading it aloud.

"Here lie the members of the Five-Headed Dragon clan of nobles, descendants of the Third dynasty of Kalieri kings." Her voice had some unexpected excitement to it. "Oh, a crypt. And one so remote, at that. It must be vast and deep, considering it's holding generations of nobles inside. The perfect place for the type of creature described by you." She forced the door open without much of a struggle. "Come with me, young men. And ready your weapons."

Ehrir, Nidor and the undead man followed her in silence and into the dusty womb of the forgotten crypt. And so they descended into the darkness.