Under the midday sun, no more than a few hours from the location of this cave system's entrance, Galeran Reynfred led the train with more enthusiasm than he had the Blessed Harbingers during the rebellion. The bear-maiden noted this as understandable, logical even. She had no doubts as to why, of course. The man had been resurrected from the dead; his life returned in exchange for Calion Oddo's.

Of those remaining after the attack from the mutated creature, which the company had still resorted to calling demon, nearly all of them had fallen into sycophantic worship of Galeran and the man who brought him back from death. The remaining three of the Harbingers, discounting their commanding officers, had performed nightly prayers for the men. Broden Van, Huzar Khelun, and Raman Tarik. Young men with bright futures, especially Broden Van, a man of pure Aslofidorian stock who had been field-promoted to sergeant due to Gerould's death. The Lambent knights were less vocal with their worship of the man, but they performed their silent rights alongside the three Harbingers.

Only Gervais Tamas and the bear-maiden held varying reservations for what had been brought into existence, evident by their hanging back in the train, officially passed off as them defending their flank.

Gervais was a man of unshakeable faith in God Almighty, yet even he knew that death was death. He had been sure to tell the bear-maiden this repeatedly before, during, and after Vucan. War had broken his hopes of life again in the mortal coil once a blade or hammer had ended a life. It was his pragmatic understanding that the soul only continued on in Heaven Above. She could see in his eyes that Galeran Reynfred's return, in a form somehow more exuberant and masculine than it had been already, bothered him to some degree. Galeran's revival had sundered Gervais' beliefs of death. She could not quite tell if he saw it as unnatural, demonic, or alien, but she could see that sliver of doubt poking out of his eyes. A sense of trepidation in the bulldog who knew no fear.

Gíla was within the vein of disliking it entirely, though she kept such opinions to herself. Eadward Crius was a powerful man, that much she knew, especially in the art of diplomacy. She knew that he had sensitivity to arcaeno; how else would any of this have been accomplished in the first place? Why else would Aedol mark him as the one to kill him? But to see him harness the potential of reviving a life after death - of channeling Uṭul - was a shellshock moment that kept her gaze frozen on the man in the lavish red robes. It further disturbed her that the men under his control, and that of Galeran's, were so easily swayed despite the secrecy of such a potency that Eadward had built up. It more than disturbed her, truth be told.

It made her worry that he could do more than just kill Aedol.

"You have the stare again," Gervais commented, pulling Gíla's attention to the man on the destrier. His steel plate still bore the remnants of orange ichor from the monstrosity they had combated, lining the outermost layers in zig-zag splatters and discordant patterns. "The stare you had at Vucan. You are doing it again. Why?"

The bear-maiden sighed and took a swig from her canteen of Tahririan wine. She smacked her lips rather annoyingly at the delicious fruity taste. "We are nearing the supposed entrance to this cave system," she said, wiping a dribble of the wine from her lips. "We have been traveling for months, and I am...tired and relieved that it will all be over soon."

Gervais made no motion to indicate understanding, disagreement, or suspicion beyond keeping his eyes - which were as gray as rain rather than steel in the sun's light - set on the bear-maiden. As he had the nights leading up to their confrontation in the camp, Gervais had once again kept his focus primarily on Gíla Arisonoe when it was not stolen by that sliver of trepidation for his commander's revival. She could not say why he did this again, only assume. Was it in part of her saving him despite his death threats? Was it because he had inflicted no damage upon her body during his fit? Was it her cold demeanor when he questioned her about it, giving him no answer save for "God wills it"? She could not say. She could only be aggravated by it, her choler so intense at times that she desired to reach up with her hand and wrench the sun's flames to smite the bulldog where he strode. Unfortunately, he still had an unknown part to play in all of this, be it dying at a later time or ensuring that Eadward Crius survived until the deed was done.

"Lady Arsinoe!" Eadward Crius called back. "I require you up here."

The bear-maiden made a noise and spurred her great stallion of a horse - named Silver for its luxuriously argent mane - to ride up. Eadward granted a smile to Gíla, who returned it and then offered another to Galeran. "Yes, Eadward?" she asked informally of the Bishop.

He pointed at the bear-maiden's pack. "How far does the book say we are from the cave?"

Gíla did not need to pull it out again to know the distance. "Two hours at most. The entrance is said to be marked by a great pit in the ground, and if the years have been kind, the stones placed by its discoverers will still be there to guide us."

"Well, let us hope the years have been kind," Eadward said gleefully.

Gíla regarded him with pity. His aged countenance was blistered in parts by the months of sunlight, and his voice had become cracked somewhat with thirst while his eyes sagged with exhaustion. Another month in the Tahririan desert, Eadward Crius would not make it back home. Aedol's plan would fail unless another was capable of completing it in time, and the mountains, in their rousing anger, would destroy the world. What a burden to fall upon this old man. To be charged with the death of God Almighty to save the world of mortals.

It was a burden she would wish upon no one. A responsibility she resented Aedol for causing.

The entrance to the cave was nothing like the book described, nothing like what Aedol had related. A pit in the ground it was, but far more elaborate than a simple round or jagged hole descending into a vast subterranean system. As Gíla stared at it in awe, she growingly understood that if not for the sheer seclusion of the place, so far from any identifying landmarks that caravans and armies would use to keep on the path toward civilization, she would not have been surprised had this place been cordoned off for heretical, or religious, inspection by the Tahririans. Why would it not? When the company came into view of the spires by reaching the crest of a rather large dune, the Harbingers and the Lambent knights reacted appropriately for their individual levels of faith. The Harbingers became apprehensive and musing, asking Eadward innumerable questions about it, much to the Bishop's visible chagrin. The knights, alternatively, remained stoically silent and formed the signs of prayer, signifying a comfort the others in the company did not - could not - possess.

The edge of the pit, which itself was closed off by a stone disk engraved with the same lettering as the obelisk as well a depiction of people being confused in flame, was comprised of four, ten-foot-tall blue-white crystalline spires speckled with onyx that shone with a red twinkle in the sunlight. At certain angles, it looked as though the onyx was writhing within the spires, squirming just underneath the surface of the hard diamond. Even more discomforting was the humming that could be faintly detected when at arm's length from them. It was a low, droning sound in the base of the skull, a crackling of energies that spoke of the ancient eternity of these constructs. Gíla browsed the entire archives of her brain in an attempt to drudge up some piece of lore that she had read to explain these things. Their purpose, origins, and any possible anecdote could deter the passionate ignorance invading the constantly dynamic library of history that made up the Drayheller's brain.

Nothing. Not one iota of information gifted its company to the bear-maiden. What are you?

"God Almighty...is this the place, Lady Arsinoe?" Eadward asked as he approached one of the spires. "Is this the wellspring that the tome spoke of?"

"The entrance to it, at least," Gíla replied. Her eyes trailed down to the sands at the base of the nearest spire as a gust of wind crept between the dispersed lines of the company. Something yellow-white bore itself in her vision as layers were displaced by the current, prompting the bear-maiden to kneel down and brush away the grains. Her chest tightened when she beheld the ginning features of a skull. She looked up and acknowledged in that moment that there were at least twenty of them visible above the sands, strewn about the vicinity in discordant but ultimately intact fashion - hiding in plain sight. "Corpses!" she yelled, running up to the Bishop and pulling him away from the spire he brazenly reached for with crooked fingers. As she spun him to land on the sands, the glinting movement of the onyx caught her eye.

Gervais must have seen her face. "Keep away from the spires!" he shouted. "Do not touch them."

With forceful speed, the bear-maiden abandoned Eadward in the sand and quickly dug out one of the corpses least covered by the sand. Tattered remnants of gear clung to the bones. "Hunters," Gíla remarked to the company, pulling into the air an empty scabbard that had loosely hung around the skeleton's waist. "Treasure seekers."

"Charlatans," Eadward huffed as he jumped to his feet, brushing the sand off his fine silk robes. "Seeking to rob this holy place for immoral reasons, I presume."

"Or seeking shelter," Gíla considered. She looked at the spires arrayed in standing patterns around the pit and the corpses closest to their bases, then to those furthest away. "Some were killed by the spires, so assume they are dangerous to touch."

"What of the others?" Broden Van asked.

Gíla backed off from the excavated skeleton, keeping the scabbard in hand. Gervais swiftly examined one of the furthest corpses, brushing away enough of its grave to see almost the entirety of its body. "No signs of battle. No damage to the remains. Does not even look displaced." He was right. No injuries could be seen in the skeletal framework of any of them. No snapped bones; no fractures from weapon impact; no puncture from a projectile. It was, ultimately, as if they had just fallen over once they reached the pit and died on the spot.

"The spires then?" Galeran asked. "Could those crystals serve as a line of defense against the unwanted?"

Gíla looked at the scabbard in her hand for a moment's consideration. When she threw it at the nearest spire, and it touched the diamond surface, the blaze of flaming light was incredible for such a small thing. The bear-maiden had to cover her eyes lest she went blind from the immense radiance. When the light dissipated, nothing remained of the scabbard.

"Hell Below!" Broden screeched. "What devilry is this?"

"Calm your humor, Sir Van," Galeran commanded. "Simply defenses against the unwanted, as Gervais suggested."

"Or the unworthy," said Raman Tarik, a Dekunian who had made himself so influential in the Harbingers' rank-and-file that Galeran had decreed him - humorously enough - worthy of serving in his elite unit.

"Is that not the same thing?" asked Broden.

Raman half-shrugged. "Depends on what the people who built that were thinking. Unwanted does not necessarily mean they are worthy of what lies within."

"Or maybe they were at first, only to die further within," offered Huzar Khelun. "Lady Arsinoe, what say you?"

Gíla considered the situation and chose the most straightforward answer. "We have no idea until we get inside. The issue is figuring out how to get inside."

"Perhaps it is a test, should Sir Tarik be correct," Eadward said, approaching Gíla to stare at the nearest spire. "A test to see who has pure intentions for the wellspring. Gíla, did God say anything about this?"

The bear-maiden shook her head, and a thought that Aedol had no idea of what actually lay here began to take root in her mind. "He did not. He said nothing of these crystals or any such test. We are without context, Bishop."

"Fantastic," grumbled Gervais. "It warms the heart to know that the one time we needed your vaunted mind during this trip has ended in immediate failure."

"Silence yourself, Tamas," Galeran growled with unusual heat. "The Lady Arsinoe has proven herself far more capable than you give her credit. You will respect that."

Gíla heard them first, her ears pricking up as the sand sunk underneath boots, and arrows were knocked on the strings. The creaking of the draw was as loud as a war drum. The whispered orders were as resonant as a thunderclap in a hallway. Gervais said nothing because nothing could be said aside from a sharp yell of pain as the arrow became lodged in his shoulder, aimed perfectly between the scraping layers of pauldron and chest plate.

"Ambush!" shouted Gíla as seven figures in black approached from the crest of the dune behind them. Arrows rained down in quick, precise shocks, many aimed for the bear-maiden and the Bishop.

Galeran took control immediately, his handsome form bounding to draw a line in the sand. "Form up defensive lines!"

Despite the awkward number, the Harbingers and the Lambent knights formed a rudimentary shield wall as best they could. Galeran and Pyrin Titanmark took center place, Gervais on the left with the Lambent knights, and the other Harbingers took the right. Gíla, knowing the importance of herself as the apparent target along with the Bishop, held up her shield in front of the aged man in a kneeling defensive bulwark.

"Stay behind me," she told him, grimacing as an arrow came far too close to her foot for her liking.

"Bless you, Lady Arsinoe," the man shuddered.

"Bless me after the battle, Your Excellency," Gíla feigned a chuckle.

"Where the hell did they come from?" asked Broden Van as an arrow became lodged in his round shield.

"I have not a clue," replied Galeran through gritted teeth. "But we cannot have them stop us here. Hold your shields high, and move quickly up the dune. Understood?"

"Yes, commander!" the Harbingers responded.

"Make sure they are tied up!" shouted Galeran as the survivors of the seven, a total of four, were dropped at the feet of Bishop Crius. "I want them in full view at all fucking times, is that understood? Especially that old fucker with the sword."

"Yes, commander!"

Gervais rubbed an emergency salve on his wound. "God Damn them. How did they find us? Were they following us?

"I have no idea," answered Gíla, rubbing a tiny bit of her own salve on her shin where an arrow had nicked her. "I should have heard them before if they were, but the trip has been...tedious."

"Yet another failure from you, Drayheller," growled Gervais. "What if we died here because of you?"

"Then we would be dead, Tamas," thundered Galeran as he walked toward the Bishop, who knelt in prayer.

"Would you be dead, captain? Or would you defy the laws of life again?" Gervais countered, his voice laced with venom.

Galeran stopped but did not look back. "Question them, find out what they want. I will talk to the Bishop. And keep your choler toward Lady Arsinoe in check, Tamas. This is your final warning, or I will find a second who is in control of himself."

Gervais said nothing once more. Gíla cared little for what he thought and instead moved over to the four survivors lying on the sand.

"-don't understand! You need to kill that Drayheller! They are going to destroy the world!" one of them screamed. A female, the bear-maiden noted, with a thick Veorisian accent. The other three were helmeted still. They grumbled all the same.

"Fuckers. You God damned idiots," one of them seethed. "You have no idea what you are doing. None. You bastards will kill us all."

That voice. Do I know that voice? Pyrin Titanmark of the Lambent knights aimed to kick the seething one in the head, but the bear-maiden stopped him. "Hold, Pyrin!" she shouted. He obeyed and backed off.

Gíla reached the four and knelt before them. Two looked at her, the woman and the seething one, while the other two still struggled in their bindings. The Veorisian was glaring with hateful worry, while the seething one was gazing upon her with obvious shock.

"Who are you?" she asked him. "Why are you following us?"

The seething one did not respond, but her voice had drawn the shocked attention of one of the two. Neither of them spoke, leaving it to the Veorisian to talk. "We aim to kill you," she said. "To stop you from causing crakat'da'nor, you witless miscreant."

A beat passed for Gíla to comprehend what the Veorisian had just accused her of. "I seek to cause no such thing, madam," Gíla replied eventually in perfect High Veorisian, surprising the woman and drawing stares from the company. "I am an agent of God and aim to save the world, not destroy it."

"You are no agent of God," the seething one muttered immediately. "You...you are not like them."

Gíla turned to the seething one. That voice again. "I am who I am, sir. Who are you?"

The man did not reply.

"Do you know what lies within that pit?" asked the Veorisian. "Do you?"

"Do you?" countered Gíla with spite in her voice.

"I know it will cause-"

"No Veorisian could have known of this place, not without the book that led us here," Gíla invoked with a crack of lightning in her voice. "So what do you know? What do you know?"

"Enough of this!" hollered Gervais, stomping to the group. "They attacked us. They need to die."

Gíla shot to her feet and turned to the bulldog. "You would defy Galeran's orders to learn what they know?"

"I would ensure that our company is safe," Gervais spat. "We have twice been assailed from nowhere, five times having dealt with bandits throughout the desert. I tire of the danger in this land we have no business in. I want to get this damned venture done and return to the army."

"And do what, Gervais? There is no war. There is no combat. Veoris goes well."

"How do you know this?"

"Galeran told me himself. He received letters from the army. No war has been summoned. You are the single most contentious part of this entire operation, and I am sickened by your continued refusal to see the necessity in this."

"As I am sickened that you, a bear - a Drayheller - holds sway over the King because of your lies."

Gíla turned from the bulldog and knelt back down to the survivors. "Distract me before I punch the man. Who the hell are you?"

A voice that resurrected a thousand memories spoke to her. "Gíla? Gíla, is that you?"

Gíla looked to the one that spoke and felt her heart constrict itself with immediate anxiety. She reached forward and gripped the crest of his helm, pulling it off his head. Bright eyes met her golden ones, and tears welled in the corners. No. No. No. Not him. "Alden?"

"Hey, bear-maiden," he said with an exuberance lacking in her life for far too long. "How has it been?"

"Impossible," Gervais said with a tone more akin to annoyance at the coincidental reunion than a shock that they had survived.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," growled the one that could only be Goscelin. She removed his helm and saw the familiar, weathered features protected by black hair. He looked to one of the Harbingers. "How fares it, Broden?"

"It fares well, Goscelin," Broden Van replied with genuine mirth struggling to hide the sadness. "I am a sergeant now. Hello to you, too, Alden. It gladdens me to see you survived."

"It gladdens me as well. And that you are a sergeant, Broden," Alden practically cackled. "Devil take you, though; you never deserved it."

Broden laughed.

"I am sorry, but you know this Drayheller?" asked the Veorisian.

"She is called the bear-maiden," Alden corrected with a bright smile that belied his dire situation. "Gíla. The strongest woman I have ever had the honor of knowing. The woman who won us Vucan, you know. How the hell have you been? Where the hell have you been?"

"I should ask you that, young Alden!" Gíla laughed with a joy that belied her unfortunate control over the boy. "What happened at Vucan?"

"Apologies, but we lack the fucking time to discuss this," murmured Goscelin as he attempted to hold back his undeniable glee at reuniting with the woman that saved his life as he had saved hers. "Are we going to be killed or not?"

"Depends on what your answers are," said Gervais.

"I told you, we are looking to kill the Drayheller," said the Veorisian. "Or at least, that is what I thought until these two remembered her."

Gíla chortled at the idea. "I am not surprised that Goscelin decided to kill me, but you, Alden? I am mortified."

Alden made a face and stuck out his bottom lip. "Well, Memin here - her name is Memin - had a prophetic dream that you would cause the apocalypse. Funny, that!"

"A dream?"

"A dream."

"What of the Bishop?" Gervais asked.

"Incidental targeting," said the Veorisian - Memin. "We were aiming for the Dra...for the bear-maiden."

"All this for what? A dream?" asked Broden Van, who had joined Gíla in kneeling. His plump, reddish lips were curled into a grin of friendship as if he had wholly forgotten the four people were at their mercy.

Alden nodded. "Essentially! Crazy stuff, truth be told. But, knowing you are the Drayheller we were looking for, there is no way you would bring about the apocalypse. It has to be someone else. Another one perhaps."

"How can you be so sure, Alden?" Memin queried. "My vision-"

"Gíla would not be the one to cause the apocalypse, Memin. Not at all. It has to be someone else. If she says she is to save the world, I believe her. We believe her, right Gos?"

Goscelin sighed. "Fuck me...yeah, we believe her. She is a good woman, Memin. Better than most you would ever meet."

Gíla stood up and approached Gervais. "This is a binding situation," she said, her joy dropping to serious concern. "They are-"

"They tried to kill us on the prophecies of a damned dream, Drayheller. We kill them."

"No," she said. "We do not. I know them. They are good people."

"They tried to kill us," he repeated. "We kill them as punishment."

"What if we ask Sir Reynfred," suggested Broden Van. "He is our commander. Executing them without his consent, especially since they are former Harbingers members, would look bad on us. Especially you, Captain Tamas."

Gervais shot him a withering glare. "I am still second-in-command here, sergeant. You would do well to remember that."

"Apologies, Captain, but Commander Reynfred is...he was brought back from death. Clearly, God Almighty has intentions for him, and we would do well to understand that. The fates of these four people should be his call, not ours."

Though Gíla disagreed with such a sentiment on God's intentions for the man, she knew that Broden was right. To not have Galeran take part in the decision of the fates for these four people would be an insult and source of dissension. "Broden is right, Gervais. Summon Galeran and the Bishop. We will make our arguments to them."

"They live," Galeran decided, eyeing the four people with a hard, deathless stare.

"Commander Reynfred-" Gervais began to speak.

"If I hear a questioning word from you again, Captain Tamas, I will execute you in their place. I will have Gíla execute you."

Silence pervaded the vicinity, a thick tension that a castle-forged sword would have an issue cutting through it. Yet, Gervais stood his ground. "Commander Reynfred, I am your second-in-command. I have been so for nearly ten years. I served your father while you were but a squire during the Dekunian skirmishes. You have always heeded my advice because of this, so heed it now. These people will stab us in the back. They seek to kill the Drayheller. They cannot be trusted."

Galeran took a harsh step toward the bulldog. "You have threatened to kill the Lady Arsinoe many times, Gervais. Why do you care now?"

"Because she is part of our company, regardless of my hatred for the beast. I would not have random brigands kill a woman with...undeniable sway in the kingdom."

"They are friends of Lady Arsinoe, not random brigands. They trust her, so I will trust them to act accordingly in her presence. I care not what dreams the Veorisian woman had; it will not come to pass because it was a false dream. A red herring given by God. They were brought here for a reason, but we defeated them. They cannot kill her."

Gervais shook his head violently. "Sir Reynfred, I must disagree with this decision. Only two of them are friends of hers, yet they still tried to end her life and our lives."

"And they will not try it again!" Galeran barked.

Eadward stepped up to the two, patient and soothing. "Sirs, it would benefit us all if you two were to calm your tempers. Gervais, as Sir Reynfred is your commander, you must-"

Gervais nearly pushed the Bishop with how hard he stepped up to his commander. "As your second, as your friend, I demand we kill them lest they kill us!"

A moment passed before Galeran punched the bulldog with more force than he had ever managed in his first life. Blood spurt from split gums as teeth decorated the sand beneath the fallen bulldog's face, nearly sizzling in the intense heat of the desert sun. "You demand nothing, you decrepit hound!"

"Galeran, stop!" Gíla cried on instinct.

A series of stiff kicks brought a stream of vomit from the bulldog's mouth. Broden Van held back Raman Tarik and Huzar Khelun, who voiced concern and protest. Pyrin Titanmark and his knights showed no reaction aside from holding the shafts of their pontoons tighter than before. Eadward Crius' face exploded into surprise and shock, sharing a look with the bear-maiden that said: This has never happened before.

"Sir Reynfred! You have made your point!" shouted the Bishop.

Galeran finished kicking the downed bulldog. "You are a soldier under my command, a relic of times gone by! I have tempered myself against your emotions and passions, but no more! We are on a quest of God, following the word of His Scribe! Everything she said has come to pass, and I am revolted by your refusal to see that! You will follow my orders to the letter, or you will be executed and branded a traitor! I care not what your reservations are. I care not what your hatreds are. Is that understood?"

Gervais groaned and blubbered, his face buried in the sand. Galeran spat on the bulldog's head and turned to Broden. "You! Do as I commanded this mongrel. Untie them!"

Broden quickly cut the ropes from the four's wrists and tossed them away. Goscelin leaped to his feet and dragged Alden and Memin back with him. "The fuck is your problem, Galeran?" he questioned.

"Speak no more, Gos!" Gíla interjected. "Be happy with your life, and say nothing."

Gos, to his infinite credit, remained silent with a cold, icy stare locked onto the heaving commander. Tempers cooled between the company, and Eadward spoke next. "Friends, children...we are in the vicinity of a wellspring of knowledge. A site of God, undoubtedly. Please shed no more blood. We must figure out how to enter it."

Gíla concurred. "I suspect the spires have something to do with it. If Raman is right and it is a test of worthiness, we must prove ourselves worthy."

"And how do you propose that?"

"Perhaps it requires sacrifice," said a voice unknown to the bear-maiden.

She turned her gaze to the apparent source of it, widening her eyes when Pyrin Titanmark removed his helm. The Gaunt, clean-shaven, matured elements of the frost-born Belanorians greeted her. When he motioned to the remaining two of his knights, they did the same, revealing similar - nearly identical - features.

"What did you say?" asked Galeran, surprised as the rest that the Lambent knight had spoken.

"A sacrifice. The disk, I saw it. It has an image of people being consumed in flame. Perhaps it requires four to touch the spires and be consumed in holy fire to prove the worth of its visitors."

"That seems highly circumstantial," said Huzar.

Pyrin kept his face blank. "And the reuniting of the Lady Arsinoe and her old friends at this moment in time is not?"

"Four to replace four," Gíla heard Eadward whisper. He looked to Pyrin with a sorrowful expression. "And who, if this is correct, will make that sacrifice, Lord Titanmark?"

"Myself and the knights behind me are sworn to do everything we can to ensure you succeed, Your Excellency," Pyrin said immediately. "Lay down our lives in defense. Slay those you deem heretical. Sacrifice ourselves to open the path to enlightenment. We are willing to do this, Your Excellency."

"Bunch of fucking fanatics," Goscelin said under his breath. Alden shushed him.

"There are only three of you," said Broden. "Who would be the fourth? I shall do it gladly if it is to be I."

"I will lay down my life in pursuing this," said Raman. "Gladly."

"As would I," said Huzar.

"No!" Galeran silenced them. "You three are young, dedicated, and loyal to me, deserving to see your lives flourish into greatness. Lord Titanmark and his knights are our seniors. No offense intended. They have seen their lives to this point in glorious duty. Should the fourth not be the same?"

Gíla felt a sense of protest rise in her chest as the implication was made but knew she could say nothing when Galeran gave the order to lift up the bulldog.