Liesa held her lantern as high as she could to get a better view. Without it, and Serin’s torch, the caves would be black as pitch.

Stalactites and stalagmites lined the top and edges of the passage which grew dark and narrow. Serin’s sword, not regal like Falan’s, gave her a little comfort. She tightened her hand over the hilt of her own blade still in it’s scabbard.

A drip of ice cold water landed on Leisa’s neck. She spasmed from the surprise and shivered, doubting they would find their way back if they lost their light.

Curse this place!

The passage opened into another cavern, though here the roof was much lower and the stalactites and stalagmites formed pillars in incongruent placements.

“Look at this,” Serin said, moving closer to one of the thicker pillars with a red tattered banner.

The symbol, if it could even be called that, looked as if it were a black scratch of four claws on red. “Is that...?”

Serin didn’t need to answer, all he did was nod.

“They aren’t just monsters?” Jasen asked.

“Oh, they are monsters,” the Serafe said. “But they are also much more than that.”

A shiver ran up Leisa’s spine. She would have preferred that they were just animals, even if very dangerous animals. That these creatures had cognitive thought showed how evil they were.

Slowly she inched her blade out if its narrow scabbard. Why hadn’t she done that earlier?

Mages are brave, child.

Sorela’s words.

Leisa wasn’t a mage.