Had it not been for Kerras’ shambling, pale form, neither Bartholomew nor Neda would have been capable of navigating the darkness. But the man’s pale skin and the radiance of his eyes served to guide them after him- deeper into the tunnels. Neda was well versed in living in the world beyond the sun’s rays, but even so, she kept close to her confident instructor, as the vastly different substrate beneath her feet was as alien to her as most things beyond the Blighted Lands. The air of the darkness tasted vaguely of minerals and ancient blasting powder, contrasting the smell of human wastes the pit had reeked of.

After what felt like hours, the two finally breathed with relief as they saw the distant torchlight. The ancient tunnels had been widened to form a large, cavernous hall, on which lanterns had been hung on the walls in preparation for the two. Still, the middle of the room was as dark as the tunnels leading out into the choking depths on either side.

“Well... this is cozy.” Bartholomew smiled as he looked to the sturdy walls in turns- less-than-confident with the state of the ancient, wooden beams erected to support the heavy ceiling. Neda’s silence made him look over to his charge to see her grip her elbow cautiously and look to the center of the room, where two, naked, pale men stood in eerie, unmoving silence- staring back at her with Asrael’s green eyes.

Bartholomew found himself reaching for the blade at his hip as he strode forth towards them to eye the two uncaring men- covered in pale cuts from top-to-toe. With his free hand, he grabbed his chin and looked them over. “Frightening creatures, are they not?” His attempts at small-talk did little to still her unnerve. Asrael had instructed her not to talk of the white-haired girl, but in the darkness, she could think of nothing but what she had been forced to go through. Bartholomew could sense that something was amiss, as her eyes seemed to focus more in the darkness, than their opponents.

He confidently smiled a sideways smirk and offered: “Worry not, madame Neda. Asrael claims that they are as loyal as can be, but even if they should attack, I know how to handle a blade.” Neda’s lips jerked into a smile as she spoke: “Y-yeah... t-that's... that’s not it. I’m a bit scared of-” Both the men in the middle of the room narrowed their eyes and threw Neda warning stares. Following a prompt unnerve, she felt... calmer, soon thereafter. There was something in their eyes- someone looking at her with that telltale stare. Her lips parted in a grin as she realized that the green flicker- that strange exudation could be none other than Asrael.

“Hey! Are you watching? Assie, is that you?” She questioned the two men. Seeing their reaction to her nickname all but confirmed her suspicion- furthering her relief. Bartholomew smiled and ran a hand through his golden mane with a whistle. “Now, that... is magic... how does this work? Will you feel pain when we begin our test?” Asrael hadn’t even considered that part, but-… he supposed he would. He nodded, immediately putting Neda off the idea of beating the living daylights out of him. Bartholomew, however, seemed uncaring for this piece of information and clicked the straps of his chestplate open to discard the silver burden to the stony floor.

“I apologize for this, then, good friend. But if we are to trust this magic, then we must know its limitations.” The bare-chested warrior cracked his knuckles as the cold winds of equalizing atmospheric pressures licked past the broken skin on his back. Asrael signaled his understanding by nodding the men’s heads in continued silence.

“Now, for your lesson, Neda. The first you must learn is never to look away from their eyes-…”

Back in his chamber, Asrael practiced maintaining a dual attention- dedicating half his mind to looking at the desert wildling and the other half to the room in which he sat. The bedchamber was calmer than usual, now that neither Neda nor Barrel were there. On the floor, Ellie lay under a thick duvet atop one of Kester’s leftover mattresses, pretending unsuccessfully to sleep, while in fact, she was looking at the scarred man seated on the bed with his hands folded in his lap. Asrael’s eyes glowed like never before as he stared to the window above Ellie’s head and muttered his silent observations.

As Bartholomew began his punishment of the men in the tunnels- pummeling them with his fists, Asrael grunted with sudden agony. It was a strange type of pain- one that seemed to come from the world beyond the physical realm, but felt just as real as if he were the one to have suffered the strike to his cheek. His earlier experiments had revealed that he could, in part, nullify the pain by transferring it to Kerras instead, but that would devoid him of his ability to freely observe his punishment. Ellie leapt up at the sign of her agonized Master- shocking the necromancer with the state of her undress. He raised his hands to shield his eyes from the sight of the young woman in Neda’s stolen, far-too-revealing, red nightgown and grunted with continued pain as Bartholomew rained down another barrage of painful strikes on his face.

“C-cover yourself, g-girl!” He hissed at her. Not one to disobey orders, she did just that, by grabbing the duvet to wrap it around herself before continuing to leap to her Master’s side.

“What’s wrong? Is it that girl!?” Asrael raised his hand to dismissively wave at her and explain: “No... this is... scientific pain. It seems trauma registers differently than-… when I modify them...” As always, it was difficult to decipher his language. To her surprise, he seemed relatively calm as he reached for a small, black book on his night stand and extended it her way. She was flabbergasted, as he was undoubtedly suffering greatly, but still attempted to make it seem as if he were unbothered by the mental beating. She grabbed the book from his hands with equal parts confusion and caution not to reveal herself and looked it over in her hands with a mutter: “Ba-sic-se... ele-men-tal... pro-per-ties... of the.” She pondered for a moment, staring at the red runes inscribed in the black leather, before saying: “Basics of the elemental affinities.”

The girl was startlingly good- a blasted genius in comparison to most... it had only been two days since he had gifted her the grimoire, but it seemed she could already translate the Demonic alphabet well enough to decipher the foolish magi’s traditional perversion of their language. Had he not been suffering so from the repeated blows to his face, he might’ve gaped at her, but as it were, all he could do was groan: “Good... now leave me. Sleep.” A rare, wide, joyous grin spread across her face as she began to shed tears of gratitude. Tears? Really? I should give you a real reason to shed tears... He bit the words down and motioned her back towards her mattress on the floor. She lingered for a moment, as if to verify that he was certain she could cease watching over him for all the good it did. She nodded a solemn, tearful acknowledgement before retracting her book-wielding hand beneath the wrapped duvet. Once back at her mattress, she lay down so that the moonlight outside illuminated the pages through their filthy window.

“First, sleep... you may study... over breakfast...” Asrael grunted aggressively as Bartholomew laughed down in the tunnels. It was odd for Eleanor to hear such an order. It had been months since last she had been her mother’s little girl and subject to discipline. At the time; she had hated it. She had slammed doors, shouted and screamed, but as she lay there and wistfully stared down at the page of runic circles, she found herself missing her strict- at times unreasonably strict, mother’s complaints. Her teary, freckled cheeks looked up at the man on the bed, before she clapped the book shut and lay the priceless tome of knowledge beneath her pillow. “Yes, Master...” She whispered, as she lay her head down and for the first time in months felt... warm.