The walking skeletons, Audren noticed, were profoundly different than the cursed. Precious little of their rotten flesh still clung to their bones. Of their clothes and hair, a few rags and thin strands remained, nothing more. No emotion showed on their faces, for they possessed neither: the skulls' sockets were empty, gaping, and the perpetual grins they sported were identical to the ones that had stared him down almost mockingly in the Caves.

Messed up as it was, he appreciated their distinct inhumanity. When compared to the Cursed, with the signs of human lives lived still written all over their undead bodies, these skeletons were a macabre breath of fresh air. And to make it all even better, they attacked the Cursed viciously: with no fear of death, the bone-bags stormed at their opponents, bony fingers tearing into flesh and ripping off limbs, rotting teeth sinking down into the Cursed's bodies in what could've been a grotesque imitation of them. Four skeletons, Audren noted after a rapid count, sowing carnage amongst the enemy.

He knew the sight would give him nightmares, but the protection was more than welcome. And it was, without a doubt, Terry's work. Once that realisation hit him full-force, he found himself in a state of shock. Necromancy? Out of every branch of magic he'd expected her to have specialised in, he hadn't thought for a second it would be the darkest one.

"You raised the dead?" He exclaimed once his eyes fell on his companion, standing by the entrance and overseeing the scene. He couldn't keep his surprise contained properly.

Terry turned to him, eyes immediately drawn to the young girl by his side. "Is that a child?"

Audren supposed they had a lot to talk about.

"I'll explain on the way," he informed her, once more doing a quick count, this time of the Cursed. He concluded Terry's little army had mowed down about half of their enemies in the square, but that still left quite a few to deal with, even more once they started to move further into the city. "This is Gemella. She'll take us to her father's inn-"

"What business do we have there?"

"On the way, I said," Audren snapped. For all his patience, he did hate to be interrupted. "Don't interrupt me now and tell your undead playthings to guard us as we move through the city. Then I'll tell you everything and you can tell me why you never said a word about the whole necromancy thing. Because you know, I'd say that's the kind of thing you tell someone about before leaving on a quest to get rid of the undead."

Audren held no hatred for necromancers, but no love either. In truth, the practice had always scared him. In bedtime stories he'd heard as a child, evil came from necromancers so often he'd lost count. Necromancy was a controversial branch of magic, practiced by few and secretive above all else. He knew little about it, which only contributed to his wariness of the craft. Especially in times like these.

Terry must've read the apprehension on his face, for the look she sent him was so cold he feared she'd legitimately try to freeze his insides. Without a word to him, she let out a whistle, grabbing her minions' attention. "New orders," she barked at them. "Leave the Pantheon be. Your new task will be to protect me and these other two from any undead creature trying to get to us. Are we clear?"

The corpses didn't show any indication at all that they'd understood, but Audren had witnessed Terry's competence and was more than willing to believe the skeletons she'd kept in her closet would listen. The mage looked at the girl, who seemed excited about being escorted by dead people rather than scared. It's terrifying, Audren thought to himself, how fast children can adapt.

"Your father's inn, he said," Terry told Gemella. "Bring us there, then, but stay close. This city is more dangerous than ever before."

Gemella could understand more Avondorian than she spoke, for she shook her head and replied in her own language. "Nuh-uh. It's much safer than normal. Father usually doesn't let me go places all alone."

The girl took off, unbothered by the skeleton that had come close to her, as vigilant as an aristocrat's personal guard. In approximately three seconds, Audren watched Terry go through the various stages of confusion he himself had gone through. He wouldn't waste time clarifying, though. Not now. "Come on," he said, going after Gemella and motioning for Terry to follow.

Fortunately, confusion didn't render the mage motionless. "What was that?" she asked, following at a steady pace. Audren found her ability to keep up impressive, for she looked positively exhausted. Raising the dead had to have taken a lot out of her.

"Karanthian."

"I don't even speak Karanthian."

Audren raised an eyebrow, taking his eyes off Gemella for a second to look Terry in the eye. "Not a single word?"

"I just recognise some that sound Avondorian and that's it. Damn it, I don't have to be good at everything, do I?"

Audren got the idea his earlier sharp comment had made the mage irritable. Not ideal, considering she controlled the corpse walking right behind him; he could feel its presence, dark and hollow, and wondered if it had a soul. Theoretically, Terry could order it to snap his neck and be done with it. He liked to think she wouldn't, but he recalled the book thrown at his face and wasn't so sure anymore.

The skeletons kept the Cursed from the square off their backs, but Audren still kept his hand close to the hilt of his sword. Fortunately, Gemella had the common sense not to head for the main roads, where he imagined a good amount of Cursed would be flailing around. Instead, the girl opted for a narrow alley, where the Cursed were hopefully less likely to be. Audren forced his already tired legs and lungs to carry him forward, past empty houses, taverns, a forgotten tailor's store. Around him, windows had been shattered, glass covering the ground, and a vendor's cart stood abandoned, the goods it had contained stolen. Like in the temple, the street's cobblestone had been painted red with blood.

"The Cursed don't hurt her, she says," Audren informed Terry. "If that's true, and I believe it is, we have to talk to her father. We could learn more about the Cursed that way."

Terry nodded after a short pause to register the information. "Fair enough," she replied, curt.

They left the alley behind, ending up in a broader street, where, as Audren had suspected, Cursed roamed. Gemella made for a stone bridge over the river, leading to the other side of the city. Watching her was fascinating; as she came up to the Cursed on the bridge, the monsters drooling and snarling and rotting as always, they didn't pay attention to her at all. Or at least, they didn't pay attention until Terry's undead soldiers threw themselves at them and they were no longer capable of doing so.

"You know," Terry began as they crossed the bridge and took a left turn on the other side, "I would have told you about the necromancy if you'd have bothered to ask."

Ouch. Her tone stung. It dawned on Audren that he had, indeed, neglected to ask. All he'd done was assume. He'd figured Terry specialised in healing magic because of her father's work in the medical profession. But that didn't make her a healer by default, did it? He could've been considerate, shown interest in the person he travelled with and asked.

He hadn't.

"Maybe I should have, and I'm sorry I didn't." He wouldn't waste his breath on a longer apology; he needed it to make it to the inn. "But I still think you could have told me regardless."

"Why do you think I didn't?" came the reply. "I'm not sure you understand, my lord, but when you're a necromancer, everyone is scared of you. Everyone. Even those people who need your services. I don't wear my fucking profession on my sleeve when I don't have to. And what do you think would happen if I went around telling what remains of the living about my specialisation now, while the undead are out here killing their friends and family? People have been lynched for less."

"But Credi was a spell-stitcher, not a necromancer-"

"Mobs don't care for such details. It's all the same to them. They need scapegoats, nothing more."

She had a point and Audren knew it. He couldn't even bring himself to comment on her interrupting him again. Instead, he turned to his left, saw a Cursed approach with its mouth wide open, ready to bite. His undead escort must've been occupied with another. He used his sword to finish the job himself; the head didn't come clean off this time, but two strikes got it done.

"And before you ask," Terry added when he'd dealt with the creature, still sounding cold, "I can't control the Cursed, so don't bother requesting I try it. It doesn't work."

"Fine," Audren grumbled, "I won't say anything. Let's put the bloody subject to rest, then, shall we?"

"You two are no fun!" he heard Gemella call out in front of him, right as she dove into another alley with boundless energy. Audren had to hurry to keep up. "I don't know what you're fighting about, but stop! Father says people shouldn't be fighting each other when they should be fighting the dead instead!"

A wise man, Audren thought. For himself, he deemed it wisest to keep his mouth shut for now. They made their way through the Cursed-infested city, the skeletons keeping them as safe as possible. Audren noticed a change in his surroundings. They'd left the wealthier part of the city behind and found themselves in one of the poorer neighbourhoods near the harbour. In the distance, he could see a few ships, though not nearly as much as in the Free City's heyday. He figured the majority of those who owned ships had used them to flee.

Under normal circumstances, the alleys they moved through would have been filled with drunken sailors, prostitutes, crimps, smugglers and exotic animals to be sold to the highest bidder. Now, they lay abandoned, a disenchanting sight. The alley Gemella came to a halt in was empty, with the exception of a stray dog gnawing on a decaying leg. Audren hoped the animal wouldn't find itself eaten soon.

"We're here," the girl announced, tiny fists rapping on the door of what must've been her father's inn. Audren glanced up at its signboard, unpainted wood with the image of a tree carved into it. Wisteria Inn was written on the board in Avondorian. Audren had never heard of the place, but while the building didn't look very inviting with its grey brick walls, he preferred the safety it offered to the dangers of the world outside.

Gemella's knocking was rhythmic, followed a pattern. Audren figured that was for safety purposes, to let those staying in the inn know it was her and no shady stranger. Mere seconds afterward, the inn's door cracked open, a man standing in the doorway. It wasn't hard to see he was related to Gemella; while his features were rougher, he shared his daughter's dark blonde hair and brown eyes. Those eyes studied Audren and Terry inquisitively.

"Gem," he said in Karanthian, "who are these people?"

"They were at the Pantheon, Father. They would've died if I didn't bring them here."

Audren subtly glanced to his left. Four piles of bones lay on the ground where they'd first entered the alley. Terry had broken whatever enchantment it was that kept the skeletons tied to the worldly realm. Thank the Gods for that. He had no idea how the man would have reacted to coming face to face with walking, bloodied undead fighters.

"We'd like to talk to you, sir," Audren tried in his best Karanthian, "and we need a safe place to stay, if only briefly. My friend and I intend to break the curse."

The man remained silent for a while, eyes fixed on Audren, who gave him a sheepish smile. Gemella's father, he could see, went from incredulous to curious, scratching at his stubble, deep in thought. Then, the man sighed, taking a step back and opening the door to the inn further.

"Come in quick, before the dead join you."