Stepping out further into the hallway, Xoris pressed himself up against the wall, slinking.

"Sekhi! It's so aggravating that he always orders us to return once the sky is closed. Can't see a dekhr thing with all the castle torches out for the night. Tell me why you can't just use your fancy light majik again?"

"Please inform me how I'm supposed to concentrate the light, when there's no light to concentrate, and I'll be happy to help," came a high-pitched reply to the first gruff voice.

Oh, right. They can't even see, so why am I bothering to hide? He side-stepped away from the wall, moving quickly to catch up to them.

Immediately, one of the heads of the darkly-clothed figures glanced up, their body freezing in shock. "Did you hear that?"

Xoris seized up, refusing to take another step as the man squinted in his direction. "No? What are you so worried about, Delhi? It's not like the Stained are going to be inside the castle walls."

"There's nothing wrong with being cautious."

With that, the figure named Delhi went back to lifting the slimy arm of the decomposed body. Xoris could tell it had died long ago, but what it was needed for, he couldn't tell. I just need to get closer somehow...

He looked at the stone floor, combined with the metal shoes of his armour to alert others of his every move. Aggravation flashed through him at the thought that perhaps he should have listened to his instinct, however awful it was, but it was too late now. Walking wasn't an option.

A groan almost escaped from him another alternative came to mind. It was the same one he'd had attacking the Pruul at the village, the same as his first battle, when he had tried to save Luke. The very concept of his feet off the ground filled him with nerves, but without it, he doubted he could follow what was either part of a cult, or servants to a fool, and either way he wanted them taken care of.

Putting his hands on his face, he tried to steady his breath, despite knowing full well that two suspicious people stood only a few strides away, and that his feet were about to be lifted off the ground. He drew the air in as he imagined the first step up in his mind. Holding it in, he climbed it, then he released it, preparing to build the next. In only a few drips, he felt his sense of self becoming weightless, and he tried to ignore the urge to scramble back to the ground with it.

Opening his eyes, he saw he'd only gotten about the width of a single hand off the floor, but that was hard enough to maintain on its own with how shaky his breath was from fear. Images of falling, of rocks, and his green blood spreading across the ground filled his mind, and as his hold over gravity slipped slightly, he fought to push them down.

He wasn't like that anymore. That was several Withers ago, and the only thing he had to show for it was a small scar nestled under his hair. He focused again, moving his leg forward to cut through the air in a single step. It was only the smallest space above the ground, but he felt as unsteady as a child taking their first steps. It certainly wasn't easy, but it was at least silent and efficient as he made his way over to get a better look at what the men struggled to carry.

The body looked revolting, an inflated, discoloured thing. Xoris tried to swallow the rising nausea in his throat and side just from the sickeningly sweet smell of food gone rotten. Was this what they looked like, after being left so long? He had only known of light fading in the eyes and locked joints, and that was if he didn't just end them in a glance. As much as he hated it, at least it was much... cleaner, to be locked in stone for eternity. And yet, here these men were, getting their hands disgusting to continue to cart the thing.

Nothing about it made sense. Xoris knew they had to have taken it from a grave, and even those that were poor would have prepped jewellery, vases for organs, dried fruits in a decorative dish, and even bandaged pets if the Human was foolish enough to keep a domesticated Beast for anything more than farm use. Graves existed to aid the body in living a lavish lifestyle in whatever kingdom of Lakhira they were sent to after death. If someone were to steal, it should have been anything but the person themself.

His gaze trailed back to the two, now out of the hallway and headed towards a curved, downward set of stairs. Whatever they were after, this wasn't an act of greed. No, this involved toying with the dead themselves and disturbing their well-earned rest. The idea unnerved him, reminding him of Xeth and his quest for grey eyes. Is that what the king was after? Is that why he killed Luke? If anything, the anger from that idea alone reassured him in continuing to follow.

The stairs had a large amount of candles lit inside, despite how late of a turn it was, throwing shadows haphazardly along the grey walls. Xoris grimaced at the light and he hung back as the men finally rounded a corner, stopping before a staircase leading downwards.

It wasn't the first time he'd passed the open, cavernous mouth to the dungeon, but much like every other time, it gave off a strong, powerful aura that called out to him, tugging as his heka like his heart were on a string.

"Don't go down there." Kraim had warned him only three days before when he had first pointed it out, his indigo eyes sharply watching Xoris over his shoulder. Then he had smiled, a light, airy laugh leaving him. "Not unless you want to be locked up anyway. Now come. I want to show you where you'll be staying until that mission of yours."

Was it a warning to keep me safe? Xoris couldn't think of much else it could be. Kraim had been quite clear in informing him of how much the king wanted him disposed of, and the only one to hear him out after each mission. Regret pulled at his stomach, making him wince as he adjusted his breath, focusing on his energy to drift over to the stairs. I'm sorry Kraim, but this is for your own good. We're just two tools to a higher power, and unless someone breaks the rules... that's never going to change.

The heka nestled into his skin like a warm blanket the closer he got, much more potent than any other time he'd sensed it. This time, it tingled, raising the hairs on his arms and neck like when he had encountered the Vilve. Fear pulsed in his veins, only heightening as the two men finally reached the bottom of the stairs, a flap opening to let out the voices of a large group, muttering in low volumes.

Xoris' stomach dropped further at the thought of fighting so many, but he'd done it before. It's for a good cause. He clenched his sword tighter, and, checking behind him for any other Humans, made his way down into the dungeon. While he hadn't entered through the door yet, he could already make out a constant, steady dripping sound coming from the room, along with a rather pleased voice.

"Oh you're back. Just in time too! I have a great discovery to share with you all tonight!" The high-pitched voice sounded familiar to Xoris, but he couldn't see who it was with his back pressed against the cold wall. At the same point, he didn't want to risk peeking with his entire head either. For the moment, he still had surprise on his side, and he wanted to keep it that way as long as he could. He looked down, glancing at his hands. Would they notice that? He slid his hand out along the wall, until it was sticking out of the doorway just enough for him to peer in with the three eyes on his left hand.

The dungeon was cold, dark and wet, with shadows looking as though they could breath along the wall with their flickering rise and fall. Yet, in the corner of the room, a dark figure filled with white spots of light almost seemed to be breathing, hard and heavy.

Is that... A Vilve? There was no mistaking the tugging tension in the air, making it feel hard to breath despite the cooling dampness of the room's atmosphere. Next to it, a short man in a dark robe was wrenching a dagger into it, holding a goblet beneath to catch a steady stream of black and purple blood, just the step before a solid.

The men stretched the body out on a table of stone, some of the puffy skin rubbing off as they slid it across the smooth surface. "Of course, but may I ask what you wanted with another body? Don't you already have that one on hand? It's been sitting there for ages." The one speaking then gestured to a sarcophagus behind them, sitting like a closed trophy up a small stone staircase.

"That one is to be used only when success is guaranteed. He was a powerful soldier alive, and he'll be a powerful soldier after death." The servant removed the cup from underneath the Vilve, and Xoris tried not to feel a pang of sympathy for it in its sorry state. After all, while the line across his chest only ached mildly, it was still a sure reminder of their terrifying power.

Reaching out, the man placed his bare hands on the face of the body, prying open its mouth with two fingers. He drew the cup towards it, and Xoris stretched his hand out further, trying to see if he could make out the details of the man's face, but his head was down at just the right angle.

"But... sir, isn't Vilve blood toxic? I thought they were just supposed to be close to it." One of the two graverobbers reached up, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. Several of the other cloaked members around the room hushed their voices, turning to look at him.

"Are you... questioning us?" The goblet pulled away from the corpse for a moment as he turned to the man in frustration.

"What? No? I was just asking... Wait. Us?"

"I mean as I said," the man answered, although his voice sounded off. Too... loose, too close to the sound of wind pulling unnaturally in the closed room. "For Crack after Crack, I have worked with it. I have left it near the body. I have injected it, lathered it, bathed it, every other option. But today..." The man's voice trailed off, giving off the smallest hint of being unhinged, and Xoris had to wonder if he had already spent too much time in contact with the substance.

"–Today, I broke past all that. We have the power to save them, every last one. Simply trust me."

Another man, the one named Delhi, stepped forward. "Imy Ajzuri, are you sure? This doesn't seem righ-"

A large snap rang out, one side of the room becoming warped, curved as it tore away from its other half to form a dark, black empty Crack in the centre. It carved fully through the confident man's hand, pale fingers curling around it as if it were under his control. "Does it still sound wrong? Impossible? Something I can't be trusted to do? Last I checked, you weren't the king of this land, telling us what we are and are not to do."

Xoris' eyes widened, matching Delhi sputtering before the terrifying display of power. It looked exactly the same as the Vilve, but the caster seemed Human. He gave the purple robes of the man another once-over. A Vilve-Stained? But he'd never heard of anything like that.

"N-no. I'm sure you know what you're doing. Please sir, carry on." Then the man stepped back, and Xoris caught the smallest smirk flashing from beneath the Vilve-Stained's hood.

"Thank you." The man then turned to trickle the contents of the cup into the mouth of the body, purples and blacks oozing down its greying cheeks.

That's it. Xoris shook himself out of his stupor. He couldn't tell if they were linked to the king in any way more than simply carrying this out within his castle, but either way, these people were clearly evil, insane, and would not be missed. With that, he drew his sword, and choosing not to waste another moment, burst into the room with a cry.

The hand holding the cup jolted. "Thing of Eyes and Teeth! What- what are you doing here?" the Vilve-Stained asked, the voice that had been so condescending before suddenly becoming the polite, respectful tone Xoris had heard before.

He stopped in his tracks, sword pointed at the man as thirty or so people looked on. Disbelief curled through him, his mouth falling open. No... That can't be right. It couldn't be him, of all people. And yet, the man looked up, drawing the hood away from his face to reveal maintained, blond hair, though the purple in it had spread much further, his roots nearly black.

"K-Kraim? What is all this? What are you doing?" Xoris couldn't ask the questions fast enough. The advisor barely reacted to the blade at his throat though, simply blinking up at him with indigo eyes as if Xoris should have expected this.

"I'm preserving Human life, of course. Didn't you want to make sure soldiers didn't have to constantly die on the battlefields?" The Vilve blood continued to drip out of the golden cup into the corpse, filling its inactive mouth like a pool of its own.

Xoris ran a hand through his hair, dumfounded. He had come here expecting conflict, a battle. That the king maintained a dark group within his domain, and it would be the last Humans he ever fought before handing himself over to Kraim as the last weapon Korim would ever need, but if Kraim was here... "I do, but what is all this? What are you talking about, preserving life? That thing is dead, and the dead are meant to, well, stay dead." He certainly didn't want to watch the desecrated mess on the table ever move again.

"Why?" He gave Xoris a blank look, a foreign look of curiosity behind his gaze that didn't quite match his usual, uptight demeanour. "The secret to necromancy was unlocked years ago, by your own ancestor. I'd been waiting on you to unlock the grey eyes, but now—"

The mention of it sent a flicker of anger coursing through Xoris' body. "How many times must I tell you that I don't want to find any more eyes? I can do plenty, and I by no means want to raise the dead!" He looked around the room. Bodies were piled up in the corners of the room around him, heaps of black slime melding into one. The stench of death hung heavy, enough to urge vomit out of him, but he held it down. "You Stained yourself, and for what? Power?"

Kraim's face twisted with rage, the air around Xoris growing tight as if it might snap. "I am not Stained. Don't you dare compare us like that. I saw an opportunity to save people, while you only fed into your instincts."

"Save people?" Xoris shouted back, continuing to hold his sword to his neck. "Human or not, you're messing with something that shouldn't be touched. This is wrong!"

"Oh, Stained..." A sigh left Kraim's lips as he eased himself up on the table, watching the rest of the Vilve blood swirl around the goblet. A crazed look flashed across his face as he brought the cup to his own lips, and Xoris noticed how much it resembled the liquid he'd drunk every morning Xoris had spent here since the beginning of his service. He'd always assumed it to be wine, but now...

A wave of disgust filled him as the man lost his cowardly air, his voice slipping into something distant. Uncaring. "Where do the gods dictate this as wrong? And besides, what better way to win the war than soldiers who never die? Time eternally under our control as we take back our rightful place. Think of what we could achieve once the Beasts are wiped out!" A grin stretched across his face, eyes continuing to stare at him, far too wide as he raised his hands to the ceiling. The members had begun to fidget at this point, unsure of what to do as Xoris continued to press.

"At that rate, what would it matter? If life itself becomes so potent of a resource, then it wouldn't be worth anything anymore." The idea was mad.

"Oh don't act as if life holds any meaning to you in the first place," Kraim cut in snarkily, his emphatic expression changing rapidly to one of belittlement and frustration. "You killed over a third of the Fae population, and for what? So you could return home empty handed?"

Xoris backed up. He didn't want to think about it, the sky-blue blood on his blade, the satisfying control he'd held over them. He raised his hands up in defence. "T-that wasn't meant to turn out that way. I'm not some monster who would do all that without a reason I-"

"You're right, Thing of Eyes and Teeth. You're not a monster. At least, you don't have to be." Kraim pulled himself off the table, making his way towards him slowly. "In fact, you can still help save everyone. You can be that hero you always wanted. All you have to do is tell us the secret of the grey eyes. I'm still willing to listen." He brought his face close, inspecting him.

"No! I don't even know how to do what you're asking, and I'm not... I'm not aiding in this. You need to stop, before something awful happens!" Xoris warned. Even now, his instincts told him this wasn't right. That this was a subject better left untouched, for fear of the consequences. Could Kraim not feel that the world itself was begging it to stop? Every sense was filled with horrific things no one needed to delve in, yet the man stood in the centre of it all, looking pleased with the destruction he'd caused.

Xoris brought his sword back out, pulling his body down into the low, balanced stance Pomona had taught him. He'd never felt this bitter before, but this wasn't right. He needed to stop this. It was what a hero would do. "Now end this, before I put an end to you."

"So, you're refusing to help, hm?" he mused and Xoris hated the confidence in his voice. "Even if it meant losing the thing you love the most?" He tilted his head to the side, bringing it just the slightest bit further from the tip of the blade.

"I already lost that. There is nothing more you can take from me!" Tears pricked at Xoris' eyes, the tight ache covering every bit of his body. "The king told Rajul to kill Luke if I didn't cooperate! I lost my Humanity, I lost Luke, and I lost myself! What more is there to even take?" His voice wrenched itself painfully from his throat, echoing across the room, more a scream than a shout. He could clearly win this. He had Kraim right in the palm of his hand, so why did he feel so powerless?

"Oh? Are you sure? What if there was a way you didn't have to lose all that?" Kraim hinted, a smile pulling up the side of his face. He walked back, the sword in Xoris' hand falling uselessly to his side. "I'll be honest, I was saving this for a special occasion, but if you listen like a good paladin, I have no doubt of success." His hands ran over a smooth box, the size enough to fit one full person. Kraim reached down, fiddling with a lock before cracking the lid open.

No... Xoris tried to turn away before he could make out who it was. He didn't want to see the slicked back blond hair, the closed blue eyes, the white armour. No... he's dead. He died and he was burned and no one would dare to disrespect him like this. They wouldn't lie to me!

"I will say, coating the outside with Vilve blood was genius. It really kept the body in perfect condition. He almost looks as if he's sleeping. Wouldn't you like to wake him up, Thing of Eyes and Teeth? As far as I was told, he was your best friend, after all?"

"No! Close the sarcophagus! Close it right now!" He didn't want to think of him being preserved for some kind of twisted test. Even being burned sounded better than this fate. And yet, he couldn't keep every eye closed, the sight of Luke lying still on the soft bed meeting his gaze. He looked peaceful, as if he had been up and alive only a few moments ago save for the few bandages wrapped around his limbs.

Kraim lifted his cup higher, the contents nearly sloshing out as he gestured to him. "I tried my best to preserve him for you. You could fix all of this, you know. You could save him." He brought the cursed goblet to his lips once more, peering at him from over its golden edge. "All you have to do is activate it."

"But... I don't even know how." The sensation of how wrong it all was jolted through him again, almost begging his nerves to flee.

"Don't." A single word rang out in his mind. It was like the Vilve's, but deeper, much more focused. Xoris didn't know where it came from, but he wanted to listen. His body screamed to listen as he took another step back, but his mind could only think of the box. He wanted to hug Luke, even just one more time. Run his fingers through his hair, hear his senseless encouragement, his ridiculous jokes and boisterous laughter. Anything.

Why did he have to be taken from me? Why can't he just get up?

The tears were streaming fully now, lines of salt running over his skin in thin paths. Desire tugged at his rapidly beating heart. He wanted to forget it all, but more than all of that, he wanted Luke back.

With that, he could feel his flesh pulling itself apart, the soft wet sound of it releasing its hold on itself reaching his ears. There was a third feeling in him now, unlike the confident hold of the stone, or the manipulative flow of the coaxing heka. No, this was logical, uncaring of consequence, a pool of selfish desire sitting in his chest, focusing on Luke, begging for that urge to be fulfilled.

Instantly, Xoris knew it was a mistake. Panic crept like thin needles being slid into his nerves, his breath almost matching the pace of his rampant thoughts. He needed to stop it. He couldn't let it happen. He whipped his head to the bottom of his right forearm, where a grey eye watched the unmoving body. It looked callous in its gaze, cold and merciless. His heart stopped for a moment as he caught sight of it.

No! I changed my mind! He pulled his cape in front of it, but he could feel the energy ruminating from somewhere along his collarbone too. A panicked cry escaped him as he put another hand over that one, but even as he covered it, the sound of a cough emanated in front of him. Then a grunt, and a scrape as the metal of armour made contact with the sides of a stone box.

No... Xoris thought, but as he looked up, even he couldn't deny the figure standing in front of him.

There Luke stood, swaying unsteadily in front of Kraim with his hand on his head, looking as though he'd never even left this world.

Here. Have a very tone-fitting end of chapter art, because as always, everything's fine. ^v^