"You must be joking," Jira ne'Jiral hissed as Orlantha and Milligan stared at her. Her eyes glittered in the dim light in an unearthly fashion, which was expected of a woman of unearthly qualities. There was something off about her voice, something horrifically alien that caused a subtle sting in the base of the Raven's skull.

Orlantha quirked her head while looking at the silver knight, noticing many new traits of her she had failed to notice before. She was of the same build yet seemed far more agile even standing still, and her hair was so silver in the light that it looks as if it were made of real silver threads.

"Why in the Devil's name would I help you?" Jira continued. "As I recall, you had a problem with me during the rebellion."

"You were highly untrustworthy, and only I and the bear-maiden saw it. She never admitted to that, but I could see it in her eyes. I thought of killing you. You were trouble," Orlantha said truthfully, uncaring of whatever reaction that might have provoked. Death had tried to claim were once, and the adrenaline of resisting it was burning in her chest. "But I have no qualms with you now. That was eight years ago. I only wish to work together again."

"And you are not in any position to deny us," said Milligan with a distinctive troubled tone. "We are somewhat in a pickle here, what with the shit outside."

Orlantha, who had once kept an automatic apathy around the woman she had so distrusted, found her tone to be unsettled and biting. "I heard rumor upon a time that you were still leading a rebellion against Aslofidor and his crooks. Is this true?"

Jira stiffened, clearly not wanting to answer such a question. "I fail to see how that is relevant."

"Might explain how you got here," Orlantha suggested.

Jira remained affixed in her denial but soon relented in some capacity after catching the cold, purple-eyed look and fanged grin from the Enigma. "Plans got muddled recently."

The banging against the blockaded door intensified, prompting Milligan to walk away to ensure it was secure. "Muddled in what way?" Orlantha asked.

Jira began to pace the length of the dim-blue light. "That, I will not tell you. We can chalk it up to a mistake of two parties. Getting out of here will go a long way to fixing that. Where is here, anyway?"

Orlantha knelt down to pick up a loose stone from the ground and tossed it to the knight. "The Veorisian mountain wall, bordering the Hell Pit. More specifically, what looks to be a crypt underneath a hidden church."

Jira's face fell into a frustrated, damned expression. "Veoris? Damn it all..." She stopped her pacing and crossed her arms, staring down at the floor.

"I take it you were nowhere close to Veoris before you arrived?"

"I was not."

"Where were you?"

"South."

"Of course. I hope you are ready to head South again. We have people to kill, as we said."

"Who do you even need me to kill?"

Milligan returned, his face a twisted painting of concern for whatever it was he had seen at the door. "We need you to help us kill a lot of people. King's people." He looked back at the barricade. "Once we escape this place, we can talk more of the details. I suggest we leave."

Jira pointed at the barricade. "Is it the King's people outside?"

Orlantha looked back. "No. We have no idea what they are, but they are not living. At least, not human living."

"Which is quite common for us since we arrived in this fucking country," Milligan grumbled. "We should leave."

Jira sighed. "Fantastic...who are you?"

Milligan slightly bowed his head. "You have the pleasure of addressing Milligan. We should leave."

"Milligan, what?"

"Just Milligan," Orlantha answered as the barricade began to break inward from a series of heavy blows. She turned to face it as the ramshackle bulwark toppled with splinters or chunks of the door. Dark things stared at them through the door's wounds, red-eyed and snarling with drooling mouths.

"Ladies, I believe we should fucking leave," Milligan suggested.

"Wonderful idea," Jira and Orlantha agreed, quickly rushing with the Enigma into the darkness on the opposite side of the room in search of a door.

Thankfully, Jira proved useful immediately. In their frantic flight from the room, the knight had found a small draft behind a nearly toppled bookcase. She finished completing its fall to reveal a hole in the old stone wall, large enough for them to squeeze through, which the trio quickly did.

"Swift as the wind. We should be as swift as the wind," Milligan proposed as the sound of the horde chased them into the tunnels beyond the hole. "I care very little to see what those things can do, even to a man like me."

"And what is a man like you?" Jira asked as the tunnels fell into a decline.

"Reliable," Orlantha answered.

Unusually - frustratingly by this point - the halls beyond this secreted entrance became lit by an unseen dim blue light, revealing them to be narrow and short, far too winding for a comfortable understanding of where to go, and completely unmarked by points of interest. Milligan grumbled for each turn they had to take, Jira muttering along with him though her comments were more related to her unfortunate situation. Orlantha, meanwhile, found some trouble traversing the thing entirely on account of her muscle mass, the walls scraping against her flesh through the tattered remnants of her armor. Curiously, besides the sensation of being pressed against the stony walls, she felt no discomfort from it.

"What the hell have you been eating?" Jira suddenly asked as the three made their way through a tunnel of nearly blinding darkness.

Orlantha gave a confused look. "What?"

"You."

"Whatever I can. Why?"

"Last time I saw you, you were much smaller. Much more fitting of the nickname you had."

Realization dawned on the Raven's mind. "Ah, yes. Well, that was eight years ago."

"You could not have had that much time to work on your physique in such a healthy manner as to produce...this." She made a motion at the Raven's arms, which even she noted were a touch larger than they had been when she and Milligan first arrived in the mountains. "Not as a rebel on the run. Well, I should not say that as an absolute. Some of the others I knew had honed their bodies well enough, but yours..."

Orlantha rubbed a bicep in a way that could have been seen as mocking toward the knight's smaller form. It was perhaps the first time she felt any form of advantage over the knight of secrets. "Maybe I am different. Special."

Jira rolled her eyes. "Special. You are not special, Quills. You were just another bastard in that fucking army that did not trust me-"

"For good reason."

Jira grunted. "At least you had the graces not to glare at me in the same manner as Gervais did. I wonder how that old bulldog is doing, being back in the King's graces and all."

"Perhaps he is successful and enjoying his life. Perhaps he is dead. Either is a fate far too comfortable for that man."

Jira stared as the three reached a crossroads in the tunnels. "You say not to hold a grudge for me - a lie - but you do for the bulldog?"

Orlantha stared back. "I did not trust you from the start. Gervais had held the rebellion's trust since the first day, only to go back to the King when the tides shifted. There is no crime greater than a craven who betrays his ideals."

"Craven is not a word I would use to describe the bulldog. Misguided? A snake? Yes, but craven is not one of them."

The three stopped at a crossroads, the sounds of the horde still on their heels. Milligan groused to himself, deciding the path they were to take whilst the Raven and the knight conversed on matters even Orlantha understood were of improper timing. "I would use it," she continued. "But until I see him in person again, it does not...should not matter. He serves the King. I do not. Perhaps we will find him before the end."

The three went left, each sighing in relief as the tunnels opened up into a more spacious form. Orlantha wiped away the residual chunks of rock that were becoming embedded in her arms. Some had become buried deep enough from the scraping of her flesh that thin blood trickled from small cuts. Still, she felt nothing. Eventually, the tunnels broke free into another small descent into another stretch of hallways, these ones lit by a brighter blue light and marked by faded if still preserved iconography and details that Orlantha was swift to recognize as bearing some resemblance to the alien imagery on the path to the church.

"What in the Devil's name is this place?" Jira murmured.

"Unnatural," Orlantha replied frankly.

"What will you do?" Jira continued their previous conversation. "To Gervais, if you see him."

Orlantha brushed her hand along a mural, noting the distinctly identified God figures clashing with things of fire, earth, wind, and water. Elementals? Where is the bear-maiden when you need her? They were monstrously sized-things, towering over the small pockets of civilization presented at the base of the mural. Thousands of stick figures representing mortal life screamed up to the heavens where these things clashed. Definitely need Gíla. "Kill him, likely in a manner I intended - once - to kill you."

Jira stood by the Raven, examining the same mural. "What manner was that?"

"Drowning. Drawn and quartered. Hanged. Burned."

"Hm...aggressive methods."

Orlantha turned to another mural. This one was far more ornate in design, bearing royal blues and regal golds in the color palate, portraying scenic vistas of a heavenly place. "You are unnatural, Jira. I thought you would require such a death."

Jira walked to the opposite side of the hall. "Very righteous of you."

Milligan shared a look with the Raven, a look of 'stop talking about this.' Naturally, Orlantha did not - could not - let the conversation rest. Eight years of wondering, actively or in the back of her mind, where Jira ne'Jiral had been or had gone. Eight years and now the first conversation to be had? No, you have to talk. "Righteousness had nothing to do with it."

The three moved on to another hall, this one adorned with old crested helmets of inhuman make. Hybrid features of humanity and reptilian, too sleek for the former, too angular for the latter. Orlantha removed one from the wall. The steel was covered in dust that revealed intricate markings when brushed away. Sunbursts wreathed in a runic language; moons pierced by spears of lightning.

"You mean to tell me that your mere distrust of who I was was enough to warrant such deaths?" Jira asked, examining her own chosen helm.

Orlantha replaced the helmet on the wall. "Yes. None of the others saw you as I saw you. A freak made of persuasion and subterfuge. Someone who did not come from Khirn. The way you speak now, that pain your voice causes, only confirms that." She turned to the knight. "Where are you from, Jira ne'Jiral?"

Jira replaced the helmet on the wall but did not turn to face the Raven. "Why would I tell you that?"

"Because I desire to know."

She finally turned. "You hold me against my will, place me into a quest I had no part in, and now seek to learn of my past?"

Orlantha shrugged. "I figure it is high time I at least learn the answers I once sought."

Jira shook her head in visible disbelief. "Where does such logic come from? You cannot act as you have acted and expect me to give you those answers."

She is right, to an extent. "No, I suppose I cannot. But I will learn one day soon. You will tell me. I deserve that much."

Jira scoffed and marched up to the Raven. "You deserve nothing of the sort, Quills."

Milligan appeared from the side, placing a hand on Orlantha's shoulder and holding one up to the knight. "Ladies, I am so sorry to interrupt this riveting reunion, and I am certain you will have more words once we escape, but can we please do that first? Escape?"

Orlantha removed Milligan's hand, keeping her glare on the knight. "Yes. Escape. We can do that."

Milligan gave a curt nod. "Good."

"You know what I am tired of, Raven?"

"What, Milligan?"

"Shit that has no easy answer."

"Do you mean this strange door buried deeply under a mountain? Or do you mean this strange door buried deeply under a mountain that rests at the border of a mysterious chaotic land? Or do you mean this strange door buried deeply under a mountain that rests at the border of a mysterious chaotic land whilst we are being chased by what we can assume to be undead, and a former associate of mine has appeared out of thin air?"

"Yeah. That."

"Hush, you two," Jira demanded as she walked up to the massive stone barrier. It was inscribed with runic texts and glyphic imagery similar to the murals. It was taller than Milligan by a head, wider than Orlantha by two arm spans, and as out of place as the knight of secrets who examined it. What troubled Orlantha the most was how out of nowhere it had appeared, how it stood without any connection to walls or hinges, and how nothing appeared on the other side. It was, in essence, a singular door in the center of a large room now lit in an otherworldly blue-orange light that had no visible source. Milligan was visibly on edge by this, pacing the width of the room. Orlantha felt an urge to comfort him, but Jira's transfixed nature on the door's scripture kept her attention.

"Can you read it?" she asked the knight.

Jira traced her finger along the runes. "Some...what? It bears resemblance - almost entirely copied traits - to something else I have seen but is written in a script I am far more familiar with."

"What script?"

Jira replied in a soothed, distant voice. "Vagarhi, a language of the Elves."

Orlantha's eyes widened. "Elves? What in the hell are you talking about, Elves?"

Jira dropped her hand from the runes, her face dropping with it into an expression of 'I should not have said that.' "Nothing you need concern yourself with."

"The hell you say," Orlantha spat, pushing her hand against Jira's chest to keep her from walking away. Jira nearly stumbled back from the unexpected force. "What do you mean 'Elves.'"

Jira's eyes narrowed as her upper lip curled. "Nothing you need concern yourself with, Quills. You are of Khirn."

"What does this have to do with you telling me what you meant by that?"

Jira did not budge. "Orlantha, I will make this simple for you: you asked me to help you. You asked me to help you. So do not think that simply because I agreed under duress that you can pry into matters that are not your business while forcing me into matters that are not my business."

Milligan, once again, appeared, pulling Orlantha to the side as Jira glared after them. "Raven, what the fuck is going on with you?" he whispered. "You keep antagonizing the damned woman. I thought you said you were over whatever issues you had?"

Orlantha crossed her arms. "I thought I was, but she is far worse than she was then. That voice? Reading a script on an out-of-place door in a mausoleum? Fucking Elves? Elves, Milligan. Supposed things that live in E'aura but never seen here."

Milligan grabbed Orlantha's shoulders with an unexpected softness, an act that caused the Raven to quirk a brow and glance at both hands in puzzlement. "I understand, Raven. I do, but now is not the time to be letting old wounds re-fester. You want to clash with the bitch after we escape and do what we need to do? Be my guest. But not now. How long until those fucking things get down here, eh? Let us find our way out of here and get my father, yeah?"

Orlantha smacked her lips, annoyed that the Enigma was so correct and restrained when he had, not that long ago, been an annoying, blathering slime of emotions. "Fine," she relented. "Perhaps it would be best if you take over the conversations. I cannot trust myself not to be antagonizing, and you seem to know the stakes to not do what you normally do."

Milligan remade his grin and removed his hands from her shoulders. She felt strangely cold from the absence. "What do you mean? I am great at talking with people."

"You are decent at best," she countered, forming her own grin that seemed to take him off guard. "We have trails of corpses in Aslofidor to show that you have a temper too. I am trusting you, Milligan."

"Bah!" he giggled, turning blade-sharp on his heels to saunter over to the studying Jira. "Oy, Jira was it?"

Orlantha stood at a distance from the two, taking time to analyze the room for other entrances or exits. To her immense frustration and worry, none save the door Jira and Milligan were now examining could be seen. The coincidence of this was disgusting to the Raven. Nothing can be said about it now. Jira and Milligan opened the door. Nothing happened, leaving them disappointed.

Orlantha began to wander the breadth of the room, enjoying the visibility granted by the orange-blue light. Aside from the door and the entrance they came in through, the room was bare of ornamentation. She reached the far wall, running her hand along the rough texture of the old crackled stone. And then, perhaps by chance or whatever coincidence had so infested her life in the past few hours, she felt a difference in the stone. A bend? A displacement. Something that feels like...

Orlantha went to work, brushing away the thick coating layers of dust and grim from the wall, slowly uncovering a curved slot. Her hands scrapped and clawed at the stone unceasingly, scratching away loose layers of caked dirt and age. An outline. "HA!" she yelped, ignoring the stains of blood she was leaving behind from her marred hands, the gloves that had once covered them torn by the harshness she had used to uncover the hidden portion of the wall. Milligan and Jira joined her, verbally wondering what she was yelling about. Milligan gasped - gasped? - when he noticed the blood running from Orlantha's hands and the spots left on the wall.

"Raven! What the hell are you doing?" he asked, grabbing her hands palms up before she could continue.

Annoyed, she pulled them away and pointed to the now visible outline. "Look. What does that look like?"

Milligan did, but it was Jira who answered. "That is the shape of a door."

It was a discolored part of the wall, white like chalk, taller than Milligan by a head, wider than Orlantha by two arm spans, and as out of place as the knight of secrets. Orlantha nodded and shifted her point to the door. "Looks like that, does it not?"

"Looks like it would fit perfectly," Jira added. "Look at you, Quills. Maybe you are not so one-track-minded as I thought." Milligan - Bless the man - realized the significance immediately and rushed to the standing door. Jira watched, befuddled. "What the hell is he doing?"

Orlantha's grin snapped to her face in an almost identical echo of the Enigma's own. "Just watch."

Jira did so, huffing as Milligan gripped one side of the door and began to drag it over. The effort was clear in the strain on his face, not unlike what was present when he lifted the fallen bell. His neck muscles bulged as veins throbbed against his temples. "You ask who I am? What the hell is he?" Jira asked.

"Important," Orlantha answered, the meaning of the word a muddled mixture of implications.

Milligan panted and wheezed by the time he arrived at the wall with the door, slumping to his knees to catch his breath. The sound of the horde had returned in the distance, drawing closer and closer by the second. They know where we are. Sound of the door being moved likely alerted them. Orlantha knelt by his side. "Are you okay?"

He looked at her. "You could have helped."

She smirked. "And take the moment from you? Not a chance."

Milligan snorted and rose back to his feet. "Should have asked this before, but you mean to have me push this into that outline, right?"

Orlantha nodded. "That is the idea. I do not see any other exits here. Might as well try this. Either I am insane and doomed us to die when that horde gets here, or I am a genius who saved our lives."

"Let us hope it is the latter," Jira said. "I would very much hate to die because of you."

The horde was no more than a minute away by Orlantha's estimates. Fear crept into her heart as she imagined the horrific red-eyed, drooling mouth faces of the things. "Mill, if you could be so kind as to hurry up and test my theory?"

The Enigma went to work as intensely as only he could, rearranging the door to line up with the outline, then began to push it toward the wall with his shoulder pressed against the stone. Stone scraped against stone as the door and wall met, the latter giving way in melting fashion to allow the door to slide into place at an agonizingly slow pace as if fighting the Enigma from completing the task. The horde appeared at the entrance to the room in a heartbeat, snarling and thundering with motion as they entered the room.

In the orange-blue light, they were monstrous abominations. Sinew hung from rotted parts; growths of a fungal nature pulsed and bled pus across their torsos; toothless jaws gnashed and belched black fluid; limbs twisted and snapped as they lumbered forward. Dozens had filled the room in seconds, the only saving grace being the distance between the entrance and the wall. Orlantha and Jira shared a look, mutually agreeing to the only option they had available.

"Milligan! Hurry the fuck up!" they screamed in tandem.

"Help me, you lazy bitches!" he screamed back.

Orlantha growled as one of the quicker things drew too close for her to safely aid the man, snapping a quick order to Jira before moving forward to engage. It reached for it with outstretched arms that she easily dodged and countered, splintering the weakened remains of a head with a devastating uppercut. Black goo covered her hand, sickly steam rising from it. She paid it no mind and engaged a second of the quicker things, punching through its chest. She gripped the cavity with her free hand and yanked up while her embedded arm thrust down, ripping it in half. Another series of punches, dodges and counters brought low three more, then two, then three again. For every one that she killed, two more replaced it until she was pressed back further and further until she could nearly touch Milligan and Jira.

"How is it coming?" she inquired, frantically kicking at a bloated thing's belly. It fell back from the impact, toppling a few others.

"Nearly done!" Milligan groaned. "Jira! Help her! I got this."

Jira reluctantly joined the fray, screeching in banshee-like fashion as she unleashed a blistering combination of kicks, jabs, crosses, and throws on the things that left her relatively unstained compared to the drenched Raven. "Show off," Orlantha offered in jest.

"Might as well," Jira replied.

A clanking sound followed by a deep boom took their attention from the advancing horde that looked no less in number. Milligan had pushed the door completely in, swinging it open to an acidic heat of searingly cold wind. They viewed the world from the mountain's peak, a vast scape of ice and snow presented before them. Orlantha was beside herself. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Question later, go now!" Milligan commanded.

Without hesitation, the three jumped through the door and fell through the air down into an embankment of snow, sliding down with yelps, restabilizing with leaps, and tumbling again on slick ice. Down and down they went, barely avoiding lethal blows against the rocks, their bodies charred with frostbite in various places as they pushed against the wind. Finally, after nearly a minute, they reached a landing, colliding with rock and still nearly rolling over the edge. Orlantha coughed and hacked as the pain of the fall spread throughout her body, Jira echoing her as she rose to her feet to a symphony of pops from her body. Orlantha followed, stretching her back out and massaging her arms that had been so rudely treated by the fall.

"I hate both of you," Jira commented, bending over and placing her hands on her knees. "I hate this place. I despise everything about this."

"FUCK!" Milligan roared as he jumped up, uncaring of his wounds. "This is beyond insanity! This is absurdist humor from whatever GOD remains in this blasted place. This is-"

Orlantha's eyes beheld the gleaming sight in the snow, nearly invisible against the face of the mountain. She crawled over to it, unfeeling the ice clotting her open wounds. A chest. "Mill! Shut up! Over here!" she shouted, brushing the snow off the wooden container.

Mill growled and roared again before stomping over, the wind howling like warcries from an army. "What?" He fell silent as Orlantha brushed the chest clean, finding it without a lock. "Oh...please be what we are here for."

Orlantha made a noise and unclasped the single buckle holding the chest down. She opened it as Jira arrived next to them. None said a word as they stared at the chest's contents. None until Jira whispered: "What the fuck is that?"