Tya was the first to leave.

Perhaps it meant something to the rest. A long awaited end, the beginning of something new, something deep which Tya had no time for. She didn’t turn back after leaving, and no one gave her reason to. She could hear the footsteps behind her, but they split off when they reached the second floor. If she cared, she would have assumed the group was going to inform Lillia, so she could formally take her place on the throne and arrange some sort of public announcement that the “tyrannical High Queen” was slain. She also would have hoped to the Ancients, even with a lack of faith, that her name wasn’t credited in whatever speeches were to come.

On her way out, she made no secret of her presence. She was met only by one Sékan, and they only had the time to detect life within their vicinity before they were reduced to ash much like their leader and their comrades had been. It only furthered the notion that she should have just set the place on fire during her escape.

Tya pushed out the castle’s front doors, the gesture being made dramatic by the force required to budge the massive, decorated wooden doors, and by the fact that she elected to open both rather than just the one.

Her action was met with surprise by townspeople that roamed nearby. It seemed, upon seeing those doors open, they froze in their places with fear, expecting hooded figures to flood out and begin whatever the common rabble had taken to calling that purge of Valya’s. The Castle’s entrance as it was was already rather empty, likely only occupied by those that absolutely had to take that route to get where they were going. And no one dared near the stairway up to the doors.

Seeing her caused bodies to loosen and confusion to wash over the crowd. At the time, she didn’t think about it, but she was known. Many people had seen her the first day, and word spread.

Even if the vast majority didn’t know what she looked like to the point they could accurately guess who had just emerged from the castle, there were those that had witnessed what she did. And those would be the ones that could spread the word that the Maiden of Fire had just claimed the castle as her own.

Those around the castle were left in a silence where surprise and confusion were nearly tangible.

No one stopped Tya then either.

Those that had witnessed her shove open the doors kept their eyes locked upon the castle’s entrance, curious to know if others would follow behind, and in that time Tya disappeared into a small inquisitive group that had begun to gather. It was still far too fresh for any to even begin making their assumptions of what happened inside.

Tya didn’t stop even as she left the city behind her. Admittedly, she should have grabbed Pepper, but she had no desire to find him or stay in the city any longer than absolutely necessary. She had legs, and the horse was a fine one. Someone would find him, he wasn’t tied up and likely to starve, so she couldn’t be bothered. Every step closer, her yearning for the comfort of home grew. By the time she reached the forest’s edge, she was nearly running. Had she the ability to cry, she would have been doing so as she reached the mouth of the cage.

She wasn’t stupid though. By that time, night was hanging overhead, and had been for a few hours. During her rush home, it finally occurred to her that, while the head had been severed from the great monster, it’s limbs were still flailing.

Sékan could be waiting for her.

Sarobie had told her and she had witnessed that Sékan had a sense. It seemed like they could smell the presence of life around them, but she had said it was more a feeling. It’s one many people know—People can sense the presence of other things around them, of eyes on them, but with the Sékan, it was much stronger. Far more in tune.

Sarobie told her it was said by many of the Sékan, that it was easier to sense them when the presence had “blood on their hands” though not literally. Well. Also literally. But metaphorically as well. Had they spilled blood before, something on a killer remained tainted, unable to scrub clean the hands that had taken the life.

Tya had this in mind as her steps quieted almost completely. They were gentle and graceful, between twigs and dried leaves to not attract attention. A hand tensed and sparked, held with her palm toward the ground and ready to attack should anything hostile surface. And like this, she neared the cave’s entrance.

She first leaned, peeking around the darkened corner, but because of its set up, she couldn’t see into the inner ‘sanctum’ she made her home in. Just passed the jagged, narrow mouth, the walls curved inward, giving privacy to the somewhat larger insides. Her living space was by no means large, and the cave itself went no deeper than that vaguely circular area in which her books, desk, and bed hopefully still remained.

It was deep enough in that, if she lit a fire, no glow would be seen outside, but the curve of the walls inside would be lightly tinted with the colors of the flames.

There was no flickering light on the curve, but she wasn’t sure that information was relevant. Would Sékan be brave enough to light even a sconce? There were three, one on each wall of her home, that had been driven in after she traded some natural gemstones to a carpenter for the shaped wrought iron. She’d since kept them lit by propping wood inside them and setting them on fire, but that was rare since they didn’t really last long. She had a few candles lying around as well, all of which she’d bartered in a similar manner, but she refrained from using them unless necessary.

The lack of light prompted her to make some of her own, and let the sparks in her palms finally burst as they’d so readily wished to.

She moved in deeper, her steps still quiet despite the blatant giveaway of her presence, and she turned the corner.

It wasn’t empty.

All of her things remained relatively untouched, all except one book, which lay in the hands of a man who had his back turned to her.

Even if she couldn’t see his face, she could immediately identify him by the skimpy clothing he’d topped off with a jester’s collar, darkened skin, and kempt black hair.

The book sat open in one hand, held up as if he was trying to get the light from the entrance to catch what was written on the pages. When Tya’s fire illuminated the area appropriately, his free hand rose and he gave a thumbs up back to her, then said “ah, thank you, just what I needed”.

Her mouth opened, but she had no chance to speak because he startled her as he slapped the book closed, the sound of the force echoing off the close walls of the cave. He didn’t toss the book down, to her surprise; he nicely returned it to the top of a tower on her desk.

She hadn’t noticed it before he turned to look at her, but she’d backed herself against the wall on the outer edge of the curve; a spot where she had the perfect route to escape should the cryomancer make any move against her.

“Does meditation really work?” He motioned to the tower, brow knitting curiously as he asked.

She disregarded the question entirely, giving one of her own in response: “Why are you in my home?”

“This is a cave,” he clarified as if that would reasonably exonerate him.

Which it did, but not in her mind. “Yes, a cave in which I live, now why are you here?” This time she spoke more harshly, motioning angrily outward with a flaming hand, only to reel in once she remembered who he was and the power he harbored.

“You didn’t answer my question, why should I answer yours?”

“I feel mine is significantly more important!”

“Well, isn’t that rude. Do you think you’re better than everyone else, or is it just me? Because I’m undead? Rude and racist.”

“Why are you here.” This time her question was stated rather than asked, her tone making it clear it was an order, as well as differentiating each word clearly for him to hear.

He sighed, making a vague gesture with his hand though Tya didn’t understand why, or what it meant. He then replied “It was accidental”.

“Oh, how very coincidental then, that, of all the caves in Evoles, mine would be the one you come across.”

“No, no, not that kind of accidental.” He dismissed with another gesture and shook his head. As he did this, he took a few abrupt steps closer to her, but she shuffled back to keep the distance the same. “I didn’t stumble across it, I knew it was here. I just didn’t mean to come here.”

Tya eyed him warily, obviously waiting for a better response than that.

He huffed, his arms crossing and his weight shifting to one side. “It’s…” he paused, realizing he wasn’t overly pleased to admit what was on the tip of his tongue. “It’s the only other place I know.”

His answer sunk in, and Tya replied by tilting her head.

“I heard them talking about it… The Princess told them where it was and I heard.” He looked around as he spoke, avoiding eye contact with her, but somehow trying to pretend that wasn’t at all what he was doing.

“It’s the only place you know?”

“Yes.” Again she gave him a look that told him to continue. He rolled his eyes before doing so. “I’m undead.”

He stated this as if that should tell her everything she needed to know. She had to think about whether or not it did.

Of course, she’d read about undead:

Beings that were resurrected rather than restored. Resurrection returns life to, whereas restoration brings back.

She remembered reading there was a fine line, both in the words and with the magic itself, making both incredibly difficult to perform. She’d looked into the definitions of both, trying to further differentiate which was which.

Resurrect: Returns life to. With an undead, it returned an unspecified life to. It simply brought back a body, no matter what state the body was in, and allowed it to walk and live again through magic. Whoever the physical body was before, was likely lost with resurrection, leaving the new body confused, memoryless, and, in most minds, ready for orders.

Restored, however, did just as the definition suggests. It would correctly restore everything to a body, bringing them appropriately back to life rather than simply raising the dead.

She looked back up to the man, who had, in her silence, moved to sit on her bed. “So you know nothing?” Tya asked, taking a few wary steps toward her desk. She had let her fire extinguish, and moved in the dark at that point, but she could see the faint outline of the man regardless.

When he made no move to stop her, her movements became a little more confident, but not by much. She pulled a drawer open, having to force it at one point since it was stuck with the way the wood now bowed with weight and age. But she got it, and she pulled out a few, fat candles, two of which showed some signs of use.

She immediately lit one, tucking the other two under her arm, then she hurried to place him again. He hadn’t moved, but she feared that if she didn’t have her gaze firmly locked on him, he’d ambush her.

“That’s not how I’d say it. It makes me sound dumb.”

“But it’s true,” she moved to set her lit candle in the nearest sconce, one just behind her desk, at a height high enough to light the books she read without her shadow being a problem. Unfortunately for her, this also meant she had to stand on her toes in order to place the candle in it.

A pathetic display, which caused him to chuckle from her bed. Her gaze had briefly flickered away from him, but when she heard him it turned back hastily. It was a sound of amusement, but the thought that he was laughing at her for putting her guard down and leaving him an open spot was what startled her.

It wasn’t at all what he was doing, though. He still sat in the same spot, those solid eyes moving from her body up to the candle she’d managed to place in the little iron bowl that hung from her wall.

He quieted at the harsh way she turned to him. His expression dropped to a more serious one, a touch of shame etched in, particularly with his eyes. “Yes, it’s true.”

She wasn’t entirely sure what prompted her to say what she said next. She had thought she wouldn’t willingly tell anyone nor would she even let on to it in a situation she couldn’t read. Yet she found herself speaking as she had when they fought: Absently and truthfully.

She said “nor do I.”

For a while, he didn’t say anything. They watched each other as she moved from one side of the cave to the other, setting another candle in a sconce on the side opposite her desk, then she stopped. The third was by her bed, placed seemingly at random on a jutting part of the wall near the foot of it. It was close to the cryomancer, and therefore she did not move toward it, and the pair just… watched each other.

After so long, her eyes finally dropped, only to come back and lock on him again when she remembered he could very well be a threat. Admittedly, his presence was somewhat calming, though she wasn’t sure why. He didn’t seem like a threat, which made her all the more uncomfortable, because he had shown he was whether he wanted to be or not.

She absently dug a nail into the remaining candle’s wax, and just asked “what do you want from me?”

To which he responded with a loose shrug, which was accompanied by the clanging of his collar’s metal tips hitting against the armored neck piece beneath it.

She continued to say “Do you know you cannot stay here?”

“I had guessed, yes” was his response, and though his voice still sounded like a hiss, eerie and rough, hopelessness showed in his eyes as he looked toward the cave’s exit.

She caught sight of his helplessness, and this time when her eyes fell to the candle again, she didn’t look back up. She had not felt this way when it came to abandoning Lillia, or the group she was sent to help, or even when those strange children abandoned her. They were all different from her. They were part of a group which she had no part of. Not connected to Lillia, not royalty, but something else she couldn’t quite place.

Tya was an outsider that looked upon the general populace as they gathered and made their homes and families and lives. She had been part of it once, but when her own family disowned her, she was thrust out of it, and for decades she was left to look in on those things she was no longer a part of.

He had not said it, or given any sign that may imply he felt the same, but the helpless look he gave the outside world that lay just beyond the curve of her cave was something she related to. She hadn’t wanted to leave again, to be forced into a world she knew nothing about. She gave it the same look, and still would.

Her grip had unknowingly tightened on the candle in her hands, and the wax became slippery under her heat. He had risen off the bed, and started with slow steps and clenched fists toward the exit.

She moved to sit where he had, the candle in her hands held to her chest. When she finally looked up, he had moved to the beginning of the curve. He stopped there, evidently fearful, and seeing this, Tya just asked across the space “what’s your name?”

He turned slightly, looking first at her and then at the ground. “I don’t have one.”