Gild, Turwyn, and Prisolyna were back at the inn, no one saying a word. Gild lounged on his bed, idly picking at the threads that seemed to be unravelling from the sleeves and hem of his robe at an alarming rate. Prisolyna stood by the window, staring out at the night stars and half moon. Turwyn leaned against the frame next to the door, his eyes closed and head resting on the wall.

They had left the pawn shop shortly after Gild’s revelation that he was a warlock. Tik had mentioned the fact that being found with a body in this shop, let alone the body of a highly respected fence and connoisseur of information to the various gangs in the city, was probably not the wisest thing for them to do at this time.

Even if law enforcement had shown up before a gang affiliate came knocking, how likely is it they would believe they found him dead, then he rose from the dead, only to have to be put back down. If Turwyn could cast some of his paladin magic they may have had a fighting chance against the guard, but he couldn't. Should he even be called a paladin anymore?

Gild shook his head, that was an unimportant train of thought. He was a good enough fighter and had helped Gild get this far. Now, though, they had something that could bring Tiki back to life out there. Was it a trap set by someone, assuming they would return to the pawn shop? How would they even know? It seemed awfully risky, though the body did not rise until they had been there a few minutes. Perhaps some sort of cantrip triggered a necromantic spell had been laid. He could go back to the shop and take another look around for any tracings…

“Why?” Turwyn’s voice broke Gild from his mental spell, trying to imagine the different ways someone could lay a necromantic spell to be cast later.

“Why be a warlock? Why choose to go down that path?”

“This coming from the not-paladin,” Gild grumbled. “You can't even use their magic. Did you join just to give yourself a feeling of superiority and look down on us mere mortals, scouring around in the sewers and dark places of the world?”

Gild didn't mean to snap at Turwyn, but he was tired. He was so damned tired of hiding being a warlock, and when people did find out, having to justify it to them. As if it affected their lives, affected their choices, affected anything at all about them.

“That's not it at all,” Turwyn shook his head, his hair scratching against the wood frame. “Just because you had a bad experience with a paladin or cleric, doesn't mean we are all like that. Most are good people, trying to make the world a safer and more fair place for everyone. I tried to be one of those people, at least while I was in the order.”

“What happened?” Prisolyna asked softly, her eyes still on the stars

“Couldn't get the stick up your butt quite far enough to please the other paladins and clerics?” Gild spat. He regretted it as he said it, but the anger was flowing, an unstoppable energy he had to release. So what if it was directed at the wrong person?

“I’m warning you,” Turwyn growled.

“Someone followed a different god than yours? Maybe your god was slightly different than theirs?”

“Shut up.”

“Did you get yourself a whore and get caught with her?”

Turwyn whirled from the door and stomped over to the gnome, his face ablaze with fury. One arm started going back and it looked as if he was going to hit Gild. After a taut moment where no one spoke, no one even breathed, Turwyn dropped his arm and his face softened. All the rage seemed to flow out of him as he deflated, replaced only with a deep look of sadness and defeat.

“I loved him. I loved him, and I couldn't let him go.” Turwyn sat on the bed, causing it to creak in protest. “We were together before we joined the order.”

A brief smile, tinged with bitterness, flicked across his face. “We were going to be paladins together. The unstoppable duo that would save the world, rid it of evil, and protect those who couldn't protect themselves.”

“What did the order do?” Prisolyna whispered, now watching the paladin.

Turwyn shook his head slowly. “It wasn't really them. I mean, it was, but not just them. They caught us together, and rather than take the punishment together, he… he blamed me. Said I used demonic powers to coerce him into something he never wanted to do. I was too shocked to defend myself, so they kicked me out of the order, with pain of death upon returning.”

Prisolyna walked over and laid a hand on the man's shoulder.

“He got to stay and achieve his dream of becoming a paladin, and I was thrown out, like nothing we did together had even mattered or happened.” He buried his face in his hands, his shoulder gently jumping with each sob.

They sat there, no one making a sound as Turwyn cried silently. Prisolyna rubbed on his shoulders, glancing at Gild occasionally, though he couldn't tell if she was angry with him, or anything. Her face was blank. Finally, Gild spoke up.

“My wife and I decided to become warlocks, shortly after we got married.” The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. “We wanted just enough power to protect ourselves and travel the world for our honeymoon without having to devote years of study to becoming actual mages. It would basically enable a life we always wanted. Enough to make money doing odd jobs and ends, but see the world together and truly experience life.”

He paused, “But we ended up summoning a Demon Lord and tried to pact with them by accident.”

“How does that happen on accident?” Prisolyna asked, her eyes wide.

Gild shrugged. “We didn't know what we were doing. We bought instructions for a summoning ritual from a shady dealer, and performed it at midnight in a field somewhere. The Demon Lord's head appeared, I can still see her, scaled with vicious horns sprouting around her face. She reached into our realm and took my wife as punishment for having the audacity to try to pact with her.”

“I’m working on tracking down a soulstone containing the brother of the demon I pacted with. I intend to use it to draw him out, and capture him as well. Once they are both contained in the soulstone, I will use it to get to the Other Realm and save my wife.”

“But why a warlock?” Turwyn asked, lifting his face from his hands. His eyes were red and skin blotchy.

“Because we took the easy route,” Gild spat. “Studying for years and years and hard work, hoping you learn enough to cast a spell and develop a mana pool aren't viable options for some people. Why should magic be so limited and restricted to only some people? We took the easy route and I think we fucking paid the price.”

Prisolyna and Turwyn said nothing, watching the seething warlock. He kept fumbling with the threads of his robe, tearing them from the seams and avoiding their eyes.

“Now, being a warlock is all I know and it's all I have to try to get Giselle back and I'll be DAMNED if I don't use everything in my power to get her back. I already feel terrible knowing she has been in the Other for years and years.”

“I don't mean to be insensitive,” Prisolyna ventured with a soft voice. “But if she's been gone for years, do you really think… You know. Will she still be there to be saved?”

Gild finally looked up, glaring at the elf. “She will be. I can feel it. This is the only thing that's important in my life and she will be there. She has to be. If she isn't… I can't.. Won't..” He stopped, choking down the lump that was rising in his throat. She had to be alive. What was the point of all this if she wasn't? She had to be. She was. She was…

“I’m sorry Gild,” Turwyn whispered. “It's different, but I think I know how you feel. Losing a loved one.”

“I’m sorry too,” Gild whispered back, meeting the large man's eyes.

“I don’t mind that you're a warlock,” Turwyn said. “It will take some getting used to, especially with your familiar, I mean imp, but I know you're not a bad person.”

Gild smiled, blinking away the tears that had formed. “I didn't mean to lash out at you and disparage your choices or life. What the order did was wrong to you and what your previous lover did was worse. I've just been doing this for so long without any sort of headway. I finally get some information with this Linith thing, and that leads us to a dead end. I can't keep doing this over and over. Every time I think I’m getting closer to Giselle and it ends, I feel another part of my soul wearing down, losing the long fight.”

“I might be able to help some more,” Prisolyna ventured slowly. Gild and Turwyn glanced up at her.

“So, that body coming back to life suggests necromantic magic, right?”

“I was thinking the same thing actually,” Gild said.

“Well, I'm not supposed to give out the names or previous clients, it's bad for business as a thief or sword for hire, but when I first came here I did some work for a necromancer.”

Turwyn gasped, “Prisolyna, you didn't.”

“Nothing too bad,” she said hastily. “I didn't kill anyone for this necromancer, I just did some corpse retrieval. The bodies were already dead, I just went out and brought them back for this person to, well, I didn't ask what they were going to do because I could barely stomach what I was doing.”

“You have to do what you have to do to get by in this world,” Gild shrugged. Turwyn still looked shocked, but didnt say anything.

“Thanks,” the elf nodded. “Necromancers seem like they'd be a fairly tight knit group though, considering they are more reviled than even warlocks. No offense.” She glanced down at Gild.

“None taken,” he said. “But I like what you're saying. If you know where to find this person, we may be able to get the information on Linith or at least a necromancer near Linith. It's small, but it is something.”

Gild scooted to the edge of the bed. “Thank you Prisolyna, even if this doesn't lead anywhere, I appreciate you trying for us. I suppose we should get some rest and head out tomorrow?”

She nodded and went towards the door. Turwyn stood from the bed and made his way to the door dividing their two rooms.

“Hey Pris,” Gild called as she reached the door. “Since Turwyn and I decided to get all mushy and sentimental tonight, maybe you’d like to share your story too?”

She paused at the door, one hand resting on the handle. She looked up slightly, then sighed. “Maybe another time.” With that, she opened the door and left his room.