Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dear Lord Heim,

Ah, another letter that will never reach you, yet I write it regardless. 

---

“Oh, that’s nasty.”

“I thought you said there had just been a little flooding?”

Oifey shakes his head, pinching his nose from the top of the stairs. “That’s what the guards told me. They failed to mention that it had happened fifteen years ago and that nobody had bothered to clean it up since.”

Shannan grimaces, pushing the toe of his boot into the thick mud coating the floor of Chalphy’s old dungeon. “The walls must have been swept down with all that water… The dirt on the other side just gave way under the pressure.”

“It will take years to clean this place out,” Oifey groans, sitting down on the top step. “We don’t have the kind of manpower to move this much filth…”

“Yeah… I don’t think I want to go digging in this stuff either,” his partner mumbles, sliding his boot across the slick surface of the gunk. “I can’t even imagine how many parasites are living in this slop… doing it on our own with nothing but two shovels is a death sentence.”

“Well, I don’t know what to do then,” Oifey says, throwing his hands up in frustration. “We can’t just… not have a basement. We need space for storage at the very least.”

“We could hollow out one of the guest rooms?”

“Too small. Also, they get hot as hell during the summer.”

“Oh… I see.” Shannan scratches his chin, thinking as he retracts his shoe from the mud. “Perhaps there’s an additional basement? This room doesn’t take up the entirety of the castle’s foundation, after all. There have got to be at least a few more small spaces for us to put things in the meantime.”

The tactician sighs. Returning to Chalphy had sounded like a dream come true a few months ago, but now that he knows what a state the place had been left in… 

“Come on now,” Shannan nudges, marching up the stairs and pulling Oifey to his feet. “No sulking. I’m sure the castle library has the floor plans.”

“Right… here I come, I suppose…”

---

I’d call it nostalgia, but in truth, I’m just looking to bookend this chapter of my life cleanly so that I might be privileged enough to never dwell on it again. I know this to be impossible- the mind has a way of making sure that one’s traumas are never truly forgotten, but even so, the others say it might be good for me. Therefore, here I am again. It’s just me, this paper, and the fancy that you might be viewing this from some cloudy castle, many years deep into the throes of the afterlife.

---

“Alright, here it is,” Oifey grunts, standing on his toes as he reaches for a thick scroll precariously balanced on the top of one of the library’s many shelves. The roll of paper unwinds in his hands as he tugs it forwards, revealing decades-old sketches and plans for the very castle they now stand in. Spreading the sheets out on one of the tables, the two men hunch over, looking for signs of doors they’d missed during their initial wander around the estate.

“Look, is that a staircase?” Shannan points at a spot on the far edge of the map, next to the stables.”

“I think that’s- No, that’s definitely a smudge,” Oifey sighs, flipping to the next page. “Gods, it’s like they stored this thing in a kitchen sink. I can barely read it.”

“It’s about a hundred years old, Oifey. It’s bound to be a little worse for wear.”

“Still,” the tactician mumbles, leaning in and trying to follow the cramped linework the architect had left behind. “Oh, I think I see a door here.”

“A door?” Shannan leans into Oifey’s space, blinking. “We already checked that one, remember? It’s basically a hall-closet, though I suppose we could store perishables there in an emergency.”

“Oh, right. What about this one?”

“That just leads outside- I think the courtyard was an actual room with a ceiling at the time when these plans were made.”

“Damn.”

Shannan pulls another sheet towards himself as Oifey pours over the paper, every scratch and scribble drawing his attention. Even if they didn’t find another basement, these documents were rather interesting on their own…

“Oh, here’s a door we haven’t checked yet!” Shannan smiles, flipping the page around and pointing. “Look, there’s stairs going down and everything. Promising, don’t you think?”

“Where is that- oh, in the servant’s corridors? We haven’t checked there yet, have we?”

“No, not yet. Wanna go see what the deal is?”

“Sure, just… be careful with that page, please? Next time I come across an architect, I’m getting these redone. My eyesight isn’t nearly as good as it used to be.”

---

I am relieved to hear that you are, in fact, interred beneath the castle at Belhalla, and that the presence of your corpse within that coffin has been verified. Of course, Naga’s favorite would be spared our wretched fate- I’d hoped for as much, yet I dared not believe. Your family has been more than welcoming with my requests; the men who assisted me in my time of greatest need truly the ones who deserve my thanks- they have connections in Belhalla, you see. They were able to send someone to check.

---

“Ah, and the key is right here. Excellent,” Oifey says, turning the rusty little piece of metal over in his hand. “Hopefully it won’t break if I..?”

He tries the door, eyebrow raised as the lock slowly begins to grind open, the contraption aching from years of disuse. Finally the latch clicks, and the door creaks a bit as it sways on its hinges. Oifey pockets the key, reaching for the knob. “Promising, so far… I don’t smell anything disgusting yet.”

“Yet,” Shannan warns. Oifey gives him a face before shouldering the door open. 

“Oh, it’s a little dark in here- the lantern, please?”

The candle inside flickers to life, revealing dusty stone that’s only been slightly muddied by years of poor upkeep. 

“Well,” Shannan starts, following his partner as the two begin to descend the short set of stairs, “It looks like it was spared from most of the flooding… I think we could definitely clean this place up on our own.”

“I agree… though, it is a bit smaller than the other basement.”

“This room is,” Shannan continues, “but look. There’s a hall at the back. I think it might keep going.”

They continue on carefully. The floors here might be comparatively clean, but there are still abandoned crates practically everywhere, each one split open from water damage and mold. Bags of long expired rice spills out of one blocking the hall, thankfully dried out past the point of smelling terrible.

“Damn,” Oifey mumbles, stepping over that same box, handing the lantern over to the swordsman as he goes, “They sure left a lot of stuff here to rot…”

“There’s enough grain in here to feed a village for weeks,” Shannan muses, kicking aside another crate of crumpled wheat stalks. “I wonder why they abandoned all of it.”

“Rats, probably.”

“Is that why the rodents here are so fat? I thought it was just a Grannvale thing.”

Oifey kicks the back of Shannan’s boot-heel as they walk, and the swordmaster picks up the pace with a grin. “Just kidding- just kidding. Say, this corridor goes a long way, doesn’t it?”

“I was about to say the same- are we even still under the palace?”

“Under the yard, probably. This might be part of the old Lopt sect’s tunnel system, repurposed into storage for the castle.”

Oifey hums to himself. “That would make sense… though, that makes it even more strange.”

“What?”

“That it’s been abandoned. Loptous priests were crawling all over Chalphy; wouldn’t they have used the tunnels they built in the first place? Even if it was just for storage?”

“You’d think that, wouldn’t you…” Shannan continues, raising the lantern higher. “Maybe they were afraid of the rats. Or maybe they just didn’t have much to store… those bastards barely fed the townspeople anyways.”

“Ah, this is true…”

Shannan’s long gait slows to a stop as they reach the apparent end of the hall. The room is as dusty as the rest of the basement, with broken and empty shelves lining every wall.

“Well, it’s drab and it smells like dirt, but hey- I think this might just work,” Shannan nods as he plants a hand on his hip. “Hell, there’s enough room here for someone to live if we really wanted to open this place up.” He approaches the far wall, rapping his knuckles against the stonework. A brick, unsettled by the years, slides from its place, hitting the floor with a thud.

“It’s a bit unstable, don’t you think? I mean, the walls are practically falling apart,” Oifey asks, running his hand along the old stone. “Actually, they’re literally falling apart. Look- there’s a massive hole here.”

“Is there?” Shannan says, sidling over to the spot and shining his light upon it. “Oh- well, this whole wall will probably need to be rebuilt, then. Unless we want to just take it down completely and extend the room.”

“That’s not a half-bad idea, but I doubt guests would want to stay in the basement, right?”

“Okay, then we can move some of the armory down here. That would free up a lot of room on the upper floors.”

Oifey scratches his chin. “If we can fix up both basements… That’s basically a whole new floor of space, right?”

“With some work.”

“I mean, yes, but we still don’t have the tools for the other-” Oifey breathes in sharply as a hand clamps over his mouth. His eyebrows pinch questioningly, staring up at his partner, who holds his own breath in silence. The tactician would ask what the problem was, but he trusts Shannan, especially once he too begins to pick up a telltale sound from behind the wall.

The sound of something walking towards them on limping legs.

---

I write to you from a small cottage, somewhere northwest of Yngvi.  It’s a beautiful day- given the clouds in the sky earlier this morning, I was honestly expecting rain. I feel a little bad for making the others get up so early to help me pack, but I didn’t want to travel on slick roads. We have a cart, but even so- a horse that trips is a horse that dies. Oh well. It would be nice to settle into an early morning schedule, though I doubt Bragi would agree. Ever since we settled down here, he’s managed to consistently sleep through the mornings and far into the early afternoon- though his thoughts are no less occupied by nightmares than the rest of us. 

---

The sound gets closer. It’s a quiet noise, barely audible over the ambience of the sunken rooms, but as it approaches, it becomes more and more noticeable, until it would be foolish to ignore it. It sounds like footsteps, combined with the hush of something being dragged along the ground. Oifey’s eyes dart to the hole, and Shannan releases him as they both crouch, out of sight, their backs to the wall. 

Whatever it is, it’s stopped right next to them, the only thing between the two parties being a few layers of damaged stone.

Shannan motions to Oifey, and they both kneel on the ground. 

The thing on the other side of the wall makes a clicking sound, somewhere between a hum and a growl, shifting around in the dust beyond. It’s breathing, whatever it is- smelling the air for traces of…

Oifey points to the candle urgently, and Shannan scrambles to close the cover of the lantern. 

---

It’s a nice place we’ve been set up with; big enough for the three of us, plus many more. There’s land out front that would be good for farming, and there’s woods at our heels brimming with the sounds of plentiful hunting- I can hear the birds from my room. I think when it's over, I’d like to return here, even if the others choose not to- but I think Bragi and Baldr also want to stay. It’s out of the way, down a long path on the outskirts of a small village, so no one bothers us. It’s… relaxing.

Relaxing. The word feels strange to say- or rather, write. I haven’t been relaxed since…

---

The small room is bathed in darkness, and from beyond the wall, more clicks come, curious and slow. Oifey shoves his own hand over his mouth, breathing deeply. It was probably just an escaped mine dog- nothing to worry about; they would just let it investigate the wall, and then it would get bored and leave. 

Some scratching near the hole only makes his hand clamp down tighter, and Shannan’s fingertips find him in the dark, taking a hold of his wrist and squeezing tightly. 

Nothing to worry about. Just a dog on its hind legs, investigating their scent. 

The scraping continues for a moment as pebbles shift around. One lands on Oifey’s head, and he flinches, unsettled as it bounces off and drops to the ground. There’s a bit more shuffling- the sound of claws on the opposite side of the stone, and then the sounds stop altogether, leaving the two men in silence.

Oifey breathes out slowly, still trying his best to remain unhearable. Shannan’s hand slides from his wrist, their fingers intertwining. 

“I think it’s gone,” the swordsman mumbles.

Oifey strains his ears, listening hard for sounds. He hadn’t heard the beast walk away, but his own heartbeat was practically drowning out every noise in the room, including the other man’s voice. Shannan wouldn’t have spoken if it was still around. He unclenches his jaw, letting a hiss of air out from between his teeth. 

His legs lose their tension, sliding across the dirty ground.

“It was probably a hound,” he mumbles. “We’re acting like a couple of scared children.”

“Hah, yeah, we are. Who knows what’s living in those old tunnels,” Shannan responds, still whispering. “Perhaps it would be better if we blocked the wall up, then.”

“Perhaps,” Oifey breathes. “I… I think you’re safe to turn the light back on. I don’t know if I can make my way in the dark.”

“Oh- right, sorry,” There’s a clank of metal, and the cover is lifted, once again bathing the room in a soft yellow glow. Shannan leans over, knees cracking as he gets to his feet, and Oifey does the same, only to freeze as he comes face to face with the hole still punctured through the wall.

Except, it’s not a hole now. Now, the only thing Oifey can see is a massive, skull-like snout, complete with sunken brown eyes, shoved through the opening and glaring out into the room, searching hungrily for any sign of movement. 

The beast’s jaws open in a low hiss as the clicking begins again, this time close enough that the sounds reverberates off the walls, ricocheting through Oifey’s skull like a stray arrow-tip.

He stumbles back in surprise as his knees unlock, and the beast’s head turns in an instant, zeroing in on the movement like a hawk as it begins to desperately shove itself through the hole, limb after scaly limb.

---

Ah, and that brings me to the true purpose of this letter. I wanted to get these feelings off of my chest. Oh, that sentence makes me sound like a lovesick girl, doesn’t it? No- I mean… the other feelings. The bad ones.

After I wrote my last letter, I didn’t send it. Of course, you were already gone by that point, so it didn’t really matter, but I just… I don’t know. There was something so final about it. It felt too much like accepting my fate, so I simply tucked it away in my coat and rode home with it. I don’t know where it ended up after that- probably in the wash, knowing my luck. 

---

“ Fuck! What the hell-” Shannan yells, and the beast roars in response, its jaws opening to reveal lines of sharp teeth and a forked tongue poised in its mouth like a snake ready to strike.

“Shannan, we have to-”

“Let’s go!”

The swordmaster grabs onto Oifey before the man can finish his sentence, and together they begin to sprint away, leaping over boxes and shelves as the monster continues to claw its way through the hole.

“Surely-” Oifey gasps as he’s pulled around a bend, “Surely it’s too big to fit through, right?”

The distant sound of something heavy hitting the ground answers him, and Shannan picks up the pace, leaving his partner scrambling to keep up as the hisses and clicks grow angrier in the dark hallway. The tactician dares not check behind him, instead focusing on putting one foot in front of the other as they finally reach the last room and begin to scramble up the stairs to the door, which remains open as a hopeful beacon of light.

The monster’s claws scratch against the floor as it plows into the room, shoving aside piles of garbage with its snout and furiously snapping at Oifey’s ankles as he finally reaches the top of the stairs-

He flings himself into the hallway and the door snaps shut behind him as Shannan fumbles with the cross-bar, firmly planting the thick wooden plank in place as the creature slams itself against the exit, its claws screeching against the surface on the other side. Another roar, loud enough to shake dust from the wall, echoes through the hallway as Oifey struggles to his feet, digging through his pockets for the key before firmly re-locking the door. The sounds from the other side don’t stop, and both men back up until they’re flat against the far wall, breathing hard. 

They wait for the screams to quiet, and finally, after many long moments of cacophonous sound, they do. The beast’s claws scrape against the stone landing as it retreats, but they can still hear it down there, tipping over boxes and clicking curiously- investigating.

“Oh Gods above…” Oifey breathes, his knees failing him. Shannan responds in much the same way, meeting him on the floor with a gasp.

“That’s not one of the Gods’ creatures, I think,” he mumbles, his eyes still wide. A bead of sweat slides down his face as he blinks, the muscles in his cheeks twitching feverishly. “I have no idea what the hell that thing is.”

---

After leaving Chalphy, my family and I soon arrived back at Yngvi. It was barely a week before I noticed that horrible feeling growing stronger, almost too much for me to bear. I bid my wife farewell, and soon I was following Baldr’s lead, wandering down into the basement and confronting the sealed off tunnels that the Loptous priests had left behind. 

I remember… pain. Agony, actually. I remember watching the skin of my forearms swell and split, leaving bloody gashes glittering with fresh scales. I remember scratching my back raw as a set of stumpy wings began to grow there, trapped by my flesh and twitching against my spine until they eventually ripped through, leaving me gored and twisted. I remember my skull straining against my face, and my teeth warping and tapering into fangs sharp enough to crumple metal.

---

Oifey is still shaking, hours later. He nearly drops his fork during dinner, barely able to hold onto it due to the fearful tremors running up and down his body like mice. Now, in the library long after the setting of the sun, he struggles to hold his book upright, distracted by the tapping of his fingers against the leather of the cover. He tries to steady himself, but every time he closes his eyes he sees that thing shoving itself through the wall, like scaly paste oozing from a tube-

“You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“Maybe I am,” he mumbles. “Maybe that’s the only way I’ll ever sleep soundly again.”

Shannan joins him at the table, sliding into the chair next to him and moving close before wrapping a warm hand behind his back and around his waist. Oifey leans into the touch, but he doesn’t look up from his book, struggling to read as his mind races.

“Doing a little light reading before bed?” Shannan mumbles, pressing his face into Oifey’s shoulder as he peeks at the open pages.

“Research. I’m doing research.”

“Research..?” Shannan tilts the cover of the book up, peering at the text on the front. “ The Rare Flora and Fauna of Jugdral ?” He raises a brow, letting the cover go. “Uh, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I highly doubt that thing was just some animal.”

“This book seems to agree with you,” Oifey sighs, turning a page. “I’ve already gone through the entire reptiles section, and I can’t seem to find a single creature that looks remotely like that thing .”

“What other books do we have on animals?”

“Not many. This library was mostly used to house military records- House Baldr was never known for their scholars.”

“Well, let's see…” Shannan releases the tactician, turning in his chair to squint at the shelves. Oifey was right- most of these books were about tactics, weaponry, or military history… bookended by the occasional fiction novel that combined aspects of all three things. 

“You people really love your swords, don’t you…”

“As if your family could claim to be any different…” Oifey grumbles, flipping another page. Shannan catches a glimpse of a drawing of a snake on the paper before walking away, continuing his search.

“What shelf did you get that book from?”

“The one by the window. That’s where most of the scientific records seem to be kept.”

The shelf in question is sparsely populated, much of the space being taken up by trinkets such as oddly shaped rocks and a painted animal skull. Shannan disregards these items as he begins to pull tomes into his arms, grabbing anything even remotely related to animals. Making his way back to the table, he plants the stack in front of Oifey, who looks at it warely.

“That’s every book on the shelf…”

“Sure is.”

“We’ll be here all night.”

“You don’t look like you’re sleeping any time soon. At least, not willingly.”

Oifey deflates. “I can’t read all of that on my own in one night.”

“True,” Shannan admits, nodding. “But thankfully, I also know how to read. Let me get more candles. My eyes hurt already.”

---

I was not nearly as delirious as I’d hoped I’d be, but when it was done… my memory becomes patchy and dark. I would swoop in and out of consciousness, often becoming more animal than human as I stalked the length of those tunnels, half hoping that some foolish child had found their way inside so that I could tear into them like a wild bear. I’d brought no lights down into the cellar with me, but eventually, my body adjusted- and soon enough, I was able to see in the darkness as well as any common bat. 

The hunger was constant. Not just a physical hunger, which was barely sated by the tunnel rats anyways- I’m talking about the… I suppose- psychological hunger? I don’t quite know how to describe it, aside from the fact that from the moment I gave in, I was overcome with the need for something I could not quite place in my mind. Looking back, I think it might have been the need for freedom- freedom from those tunnels beneath the earth. 

---

“Well, according to-” Oifey flips to the front of the book he’s holding, brow pinched, “Sir Feliciano of Leonster, the largest reptile native to Grannvale is the length of my leg, so clearly, he’s full of shit.” The tactician tosses the book to the other end of the long table, watching it slide across the polished surface before thudding against its abandoned peers. “Not a single one of these texts describes any creature that large living near here, never mind a bipedal one.”

“Perhaps a wyvern got stuck down there and had to adapt,” Shannan tries, handing Oifey another book before returning to his own reading. “It had wings, I think.”

“And arms as well, remember? Wyverns don’t have those.”

“True, true…” Shannan licks the tip of his finger, putting his feet up on the desk as he flips a page. “I’m starting to think that we should be consulting books of legend rather than books of fact. This might be a creature regarded as myth rather than truth.”

“What, like a sea serpent?”

“Sort of. Maybe a sea serpent’s leggy cousin. You saw how fast that thing could sprint.”

Oifey hums, carefully selecting a different book as he tossed the Encyclopedia of Large Insects aside. A worn journal has made its way into the pile somehow, and he tugs on it curiously.

“ What the Demons Left Behind ? That’s a bit of a foreboding title, don’t you think?”

“Sounds like a work of fiction made it onto the shelf by mistake. What is it?”

“Unsure…” Oifey flips through the pages curiously, observing carefully sketched drawings of creatures, both fantastical and mundane. “This looks like the work of a crackpot.”

“Well, that thing in the basement is clearly the creation of some sort of mad deity, so perhaps that’s the book we’re looking for,” Shannan says, shutting his own tome with a soft thud. “Anything about big lizards?”

“... There’s no index. I have to look through each page by hand. Give me a little bit and I’ll get back to you on that.”

---

I think I might have gotten out one time- I remember digging, and then blinding light, and then screams and pain as I was peppered with arrows. I assume I emerged in a village somewhere but was promptly chased back underground. I try not to think of the other sensations that come with that memory, the taste of iron on my tongue… and the giddiness that followed…

I never found that opening again, and good riddance. That would have defeated the purpose of willfully imprisoning myself in the first place.

---

“Oh, wait, this is…”

“Find something?”

“You know what? I think I actually did.” Oifey clears his throat, sitting up straight in his chair as he begins to read the weathered page aloud. “And of course, we cannot forget about the spawn of Loptous himself- the deep-earth demons. Simply known to the common man as dragonspawn, these creatures are massive in scale, sometimes growing as large as two men from snout to tail. They are characterized by their near-human stance, combined with the limbs and features of a lizard, and legends of them have cropped up all over Jugdral over the decades, the first sightings being in the mountains of western Grannvale mere years after the establishment of the country.”

“That sounds like our lizard, alright,” Shannan breathes before nodding. 

Oifey continues, his tired eyes flickering across the page. “Most sightings have been nothing but hearsay, and few authorities are willing to put money on their existence, simply because they are so rare. No juveniles or eggs have ever been found, and they seem to prefer underground habitats, having been spotted crawling in and out of the earth on several occasions, usually out of tunnels once dug for foul purposes. For these reasons, as well as their humanoid appearances, many believe that these creatures were once men, and have been cursed to live as beasts for one reason or another. The theory of them being former priests of the Lopt Sect is a popular one, and would explain their transformation into smaller versions of the foul god they once worshiped.”

“So that thing is a person?”

Oifey glances at the picture. It certainly looks like the beast they encountered, skull-like face and all. “I’ve never heard of a person turning into such a monster…”

“If it’s a curse, I think it’s probably possible,” Shannan mumbles, eyebrows raised. “People get cursed all the time.”

“Yes, but… usually not this severely. This is almost impossible for me to wrap my head around.”

“Does it say anything about… I don’t know, weaknesses? How do we kill it- or at least get rid of it. It can’t stay in the basement; that door won’t hold forever.”

“Um,” Oifey hums, flipping to the next page. “The manner of defeating one of these powerful creatures is currently unknown. Many have reported that they are unkillable, and can only be chased away or crippled, and no one has ever found the corpse of such a beast before. If one is happened upon, the unfortunate wanderer’s best course of action is to attempt an escape, perhaps leading it into a populated area where others are known to carry weapons. If one is far away from civilization, however, then their best option is to pray for a merciful afterlife and make peace with their Gods.”

Shannan blinks at him. “That’s… hm.”

“Rather morbid. And… not particularly helpful.”

“Does it say anything else?”

Oifey turns to the book again. “Theoretically, if these beasts are the result of a curse, then the curse should be breakable, returning the afflicted to a more human state, if they were even human in the first place. Doing so would require a sharp-minded cleric with unparalleled skill in the arts of healing, a skill which is rare in the backwoods of Jugdral. It is not recommended for anyone, civilian or warrior, to confront one of these beasts head on- they show no mercy, and they feel little pain.”

“Well,” Shannan starts as Oifey trails off. “If it is a curse… Do we know anyone with ‘unparalleled healing power?’”

“We know quite a few healers, but… I can’t think of a single expert on curses.”

Shannan scratches his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps Lord Seliph might know someone. You meet an awful lot of strange folks in the capital. I’ll pen him a letter. He should probably be informed that there’s a monster in his family home’s basement regardless.”

“Good idea.” Oifey stands slowly, shutting the book and easing himself into a stretch. “In the meantime- I’m gonna go double check that door… and then see about getting some rest.”

---

It went on as usual after that, time sliding by like thick mud under my feet. In the bare few moments of lucidity I was cursed with, I often found myself thinking of my family and hoping they were alright. I had no way of knowing what day of the week it was, nevermind what year, so you can imagine my bewilderment at the calendar date set before me today. I spent those dark hours praying for the safety of those already taken by death.

I visited Eteri’s grave before coming here, as well as the girls’. I’m glad I got the chance to say goodbye beforehand- it’s a privilege that I know many of my compatriots were denied. 

---

“Oifey.”

“Shannan?”

“Oifey,” the swordmaster says, brows knitted as he stands in the doorway to his husband’s little office. “There’s a girl here.”

“Here?”

“At the gates. She says that Lord Seliph sent her.”

“What for?” Oifey tilts his head, crossing his arms at his desk. 

“To help with the, uh,” Shannan lowers his voice, “ monster problem .”

“He sent a girl?” Oifey repeats, brows pinched. “How old?”

“Definitely less than fifteen. I have no idea where he found her- I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

Oifey blinks. “Seliph sent a child to come help with the man-eating lizard.”

“Apparently.” The tactician gapes a bit, and Shannan raises his eyebrows. “Do I let her in, or what?”

“I mean, if she traveled all the way here, then yes, of course let her in,” Oifey says, standing. “But… I don’t know about letting her help- what can she do that we can’t?”

“She’s got a wicked looking staff on her- maybe she’s our so-called healing expert?”

“You just said she’s a child. How much of an expert could she be?”

“Can’t hurt to ask her. I trust Seliph’s judgement.”

“I mean, I do too, but…”

Shannan pushes away from the doorframe as Oifey meets him, face still twisted in confusion. “Let’s go talk to her. Maybe she’s secretly a thousand years old, or something.”

---

I don’t think I got older in the tunnels. I look at my hands now, and aside from the scars and scratches from decades of crawling around in the dirt, they look the same as when I’d left. I was just coming ‘round the bend of fifty at the time, and I think that number still fits. I hope I get even older, and I hope the dragons’ curse is fully lifted- I’d like to be buried with Eteri someday. I have a tomb, or so I’ve been told; all of the Twelve do, in the catacombs of their estates. I don’t know, though. I think I’ve had enough of underground resting places. If they won’t bury me with my wife, then I hope the others have enough sense to just throw me in a ditch somewhere and call it a day. Let me soak up the sun a little. Let me grow some grass. Let me get eaten by a racoon or something. I don’t care. 

---

The girl is short, with long lilac hair and piercing eyes that bore deep into Oifey’s soul as she contemplates him from her seat on the couch. She smiles a bit, crossing her legs under her long skirts with a hum. 

“I’m Sara. Lord Leif told me I was needed here- even though I said I didn’t want to fight anymore… I guess you’re lucky that I’ve been bored these last few weeks.”

“Sara,” Oifey repeats, casting a glance towards his husband, who hovers near the door, examining the veritable treasure-trove of staves the girl had brought with her, bundled together like sticks meant for the fire. “I don’t mean to pry, but aren’t you a little…”

“Young?” She finishes his sentence with a smirk. “I know what I’m doing, you know. I’m an expert with staves.”

“What the hell is this?” Shannan mumbles to himself, pulling a twisted rod out of the bundle and turning it over in his hands. Sara swivels in her chair, frowning. 

“That’s a Berserk staff. Don’t activate it by mistake.”

Shannan makes a shaky noise at the back of his throat, dropping the item onto the chair next to him. 

“You should know better than to touch someone else’s things without asking,” Sara continues, turning back around. “I’ve got loads of dangerous stuff with me, and only I know how to use it.”

“Where...” Oifey starts, watching Shannan wipe his hands off on his tunic furiously, “Where did you get all of these staves? Most of them look quite rare.”

“Oh, around. Lord Leif gave me many of them when I assisted him back in Thracia- as a form of thank-you, I suppose.” She squints at him. “I was told you needed a curse lifted, but neither Lord Leif nor Lord Seliph was particularly descriptive, so I just brought everything, but now that I’m here…” She tilts her head to the side, examining Oifey with a scrutinous gaze, “I can tell that you’ve been having some trouble with… basement-dwellers?”

“Just one, as far as we know.”

“Hm. I thought so- I can sense the despair hanging over this place from here. And that’s one powerful curse at work… I’ll need to bring my strongest spells, won’t I?”

She stands, sweeping over to her supplies as she picks out her weapons of choice. A mend staff, a sleep staff, and a wretched looking lump of wood carved in the shape of a beast all make the cut, and she holsters them on her belt as if they were swords.

Oifey follows her, wringing his hands.

“Uh- Perhaps we should wait until tomorrow… I’m sure you’re tired from all that traveling…”

Sara scoffs, blinking at him. “Rest? When there’s so much foul energy permeating the air? Impossible- I don’t think I could ever sleep in a place so overwhelmed by suffering. We shouldn’t wait.”

Oifey looks to Shannan, who shrugs. 

“I’ll go get our blades, then. We can’t have you wandering there on your own.”

---

Okay, I’m getting far ahead of myself again. Where was I? Oh yes- decades of torment.

So, there I was, having a lovely meal of freshly-killed rat, when I noticed a light in the distance. Of course, this was quite unnatural for the tunnels; there were no lights whatsoever. Even if some old torches were still laying around, they were sodden from years of underground must, and I had no matches. So naturally, the light caught my attention almost immediately.

---

Sara pulls a face as they approach the door. “Oh, it is  quite bad down here.”

“What, does it smell?” Shannan asks, putting his ear against the wood quietly, listening for noises coming from beyond. Oifey grips his shield tighter- the beast had managed near silence before; it could be sitting right on the other side, waiting for a chance to escape for all they knew.

Sara joins Shannan, running a hand over the grooves in the wood. “No… the despair. It’s nearly overwhelming- and it only gets worse the closer we get.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it despair,” Oifey mumbles. “I think what you’re sensing is me about to lose my cool.”

The girl looks over her shoulder, shooting the tactician a sly look. “Oh, no, I’m picking up plenty of that too. I just didn’t want to embarrass you.”

Shannan snickers under his breath, planting both hands firmly on the crossbar still faithfully blocking the door. “Well, if you two are done playing around- shall we?”

Sara straightens up standing at attention with a staff in each hand. “Whenever you’re ready.” She only groans a little bit as Oifey maneuvers in front of her, shield blocking her view. “I need to be able to see, you know.”

“This won’t work if you’ve been mauled, Lady Sara.”

“Hm… perhaps not. Maybe you’re a bit braver than your aura lets on…”

“I’m opening it,” Shannan interrupts, catching the group’s attention as the bar is pulled away. The lock is just as creaky as before, but as the door eases on its hinges, no sounds come from inside the dark basement. Sara mumbles an incantation, and the staff in her left hand begins to glow subtly, filling the little alcove with warm light.

“Do you want me to hold the torch?” Shannan offers, holding a hand out.

“I’ve got it. Just focus on protecting me, please.”

“Can do. Alright, folks- we’re going in.”

The door creaks open, and the glow from the torch staff fills the filthy room, its light glancing off the rust on the bars of the old dungeon cells. The place has been ransacked- even in comparison to the way it looked before. It's a mess. The crates have been stomped into the mud and the grain that was once inside is now spilled across the tilework like a granular carpet. Oifey’s eyes dart to the shadows, the glitter of eyes is thankfully not prescient in the dark corners of the room.

“Maybe it went back where it came from?” Shannan whispers, testing the first step. Nothing in the room moves, so he tries another. Behind the men, Sara flinches, her grip growing white-knuckled on her staff.

“Oh, there’s someone down here all right- but I can barely make out anything resembling a coherent thought… It’s all just… swirling madness.”

Oifey doesn’t comment on the girl’s strange ability , instead choosing to be thankful that she was willing to help them at all with such a strange task in the first place. Instead, he continues scouting the dark corners, eyes wide as he peels over the edges of the room, looking for a huddled form crouching between the boxes. 

“Can you tell what direction it went?”

Sara frowns, shaking her head. “This whole place is overflowing with emotion, probably from years and years of build-up. I couldn’t track a wyvern in this mess if it was inches from my face.”

“Unfortunate,” Shannan whispers, leveling his sword as he reaches the bottom of the steps. “We’ll just have to do this the hard way. Close that door behind you- we can’t have it sneaking out into the castle when our backs are turned.”

“I think it’s more likely to get distracted by eating us ,” Oifey mumbles as he reaches for the knob, shutting the exit tightly behind them, “but alright.”

Now that the light from upstairs is gone, the room suddenly feels a lot more cramped. Oifey swallows thickly, unable to escape the feeling that they’re being watched , though he hopes that’s just a side effect of Sara’s strange metaphysical powers. He follows Shannan into the darkness, holding a hand behind him to keep Sara in line- it was a straight-forward path, but she’d never been down here before…

“Ugh, that beast really tore the place up, huh? It’s gonna be a massive pain to clear all this rice away,” Shannan muses, shifting a box out of their path with his foot. “No rest for the wicked, it seems. No matter what basement we try, there’s always back-breaking labor to be done.”

“I’ll take old wheat over a sea of mud,” Oifey responds, not quite as relaxed as his partner. “But I could do without the monster.”

“Monster…” Sara mumbles. “Monster… monster… You keep calling it as such, but…”

“Are you picking something up?” Shannan asks, drawing back until he’s closer to the other two once more. 

“It’s a bit difficult to sort through all these thoughts- most of them are just about hunting and being hungry and other animal stuff… but I’m picking up slivers of memory as well. We’re definitely dealing with a person- or at least, a former person.”

“What kind of memories?”

“Nothing too clear,” Sara continues, voice quiet as she thinks. “I don’t have names, and I barely have images, but there’s flashes of human emotion here. Feelings of companionship, hope, perhaps even something akin to love- warped by the curse though it may be…”

“Does it seem like a Loptous priest?” 

Sara frowns deeply. “I don’t know. I hope not- I never want to see another member of the Loptous church in my life.”

Shannan starts explaining the books that he and Oifey had read the night before as the tactician draws away from the group, approaching the old dungeon cells. They’re empty, of course- not even a dusty skeleton or two graces the rotted cots. He hums to himself in thought, reaching out to push one of the cell doors closed-

“Wait!” Sara’s voice stops him in his tracks, arm frozen in midair as his fingers twitch. “I’m- something just changed. It’s nearby!”

Oifey tucks himself behind his shield, withdrawing his arm as he once again begins to search the room. No- the boxes are all still in place, and the corners are still as empty as they ever were-

“Sir Oifey,” Sara whispers, “I think you should back away from those cells.”

“I don’t see anything inside-”

“Shh. Come back over here.”

He does as he’s told, only stopping once he feels the firmness of one of Shannan’s hands against his back. “I didn’t see anything in the cells- are you sure?”

Sara nods, gripping the mystery staff harshly as she raises the torch. 

“It’s not inside the cells. It’s above them- look, there’s a gap.”

Oifey squints in the low light, his heart skipping a beat as the yellow glow raises, revealing the end of a scaled tail poking out from the ceiling and hanging over the side of the cell, easily mistaken as a simple rock formation or a piece of trash. The tail twitches as the group continues to shuffle away, flicking against the bars before retracting out of sight. 

“How is that thing so damn quiet,” Shannan hisses, crouching into a low stance, sword held aloft and pointed at the spot where the offending limb had disappeared. “You’d think a creature of that size would at least make a little noise when moving around…”

“Yes, well,” Oifey struggles, planting himself in front of Sara once more, “Demon creature. Horrible power. Weird curse. I’m sure there’s a good reason somewhere in there that makes sense.”

“I can’t see it- I can’t hit it if I can’t see it,” the cleric complains, peering out from behind the tactician’s back. “I need it to come down from there- can one of you catch its attention?”

“Catch its attention- I think it definitely knows we’re here,” Oifey breathes. “It was waiting to get the jump on us- It’ll have no choice but to come down eventually.” The scraping of rock behind them makes Oifey jump, and he barely relaxes once he catches a glance of the rock sitting heavy in Shannan’s hand. “You can’t be serious.”

“Serious as a curse,” Shannan states, weighing the stone. “This ought to get it moving- just be ready with that shield, alright?”

Oifey groans, returning to his guarded position. Clicks were echoing through the room now, increasing in frequency and volume as the beast shuffled around in its hiding spot. 

“Alright- come out and play you great scaly irritant,” Shannan says, his voice briefly drowning out the sound of the monster’s movements. The rock sails through the air, clattering against the bars of the cell with a loud bang, which is quickly followed by a confused roar as a dark, long shadow slides down the back wall, taking refuge behind the boxes Oifey had originally been searching. 

“There-! Oh, I still can’t quite see it-” Sara cries, pointing her glowing staff towards the beast, which hisses like a stomped snake at the attention. 

“I’ll draw it out!”

Shannan breaks from the group, stomping forwards as the creature rears up onto its hind legs exposing its humanoid torso and stretching its crumpled wings-

“Perfect- I have you now!” Sara extends the other staff, and a blinding light fills the cavern, forcing Oifey to shield his eyes-

But when the brightness dims, the creature still stands there- dazed by the flash, but just as lizardy as it had been before.

“Damn,” Sara mutters, “I missed- I have to get closer!”

The beast turns its attention on the girl as she speaks, recognizing her as the source of the bright light. It drops onto all fours, its tail snaking up the wall behind it as it prepares to pounce-

Oifey dives in front of the creature before it can clamp its skeletal jaws around Sara’s head, grunting as the shield attached to his arm crunches and screams between the monster’s teeth. The lizard shakes its head furiously, threatening to break the tactician’s arm as he’s jerked around, only to suddenly release the shield as Shannan whips Balmung against the skin of its back, drawing blood that boils on the surface of skin far too hot for such a cold, underground place. The swordsman parries a hand full of sharp claws before being knocked down by the weight of the thing- teeth grit as the mouth full of bloodied fangs swings down towards his face-

“ Sara! Do it now!” Oifey screams, the sharp pitch of his voice making the girl jump as she tries the spell again-

The blinding light flashes, and this time, the creature screeches - the cry loud enough to unsettle dust from the ceiling as it’s blown back against the wall by the force of the mysterious staff’s healing magic. It’s like someone had cast Naga in the basement, and soon that brightness is accompanied by the smell of burning flesh- the cauterization of an ancient, magical wound. The roaring eventually devolves into unintelligible wails as great chunks of flesh fall to the floor- the creature’s wings and tail becoming nothing more than slabs of oozing meat as they hit the ground-

“Alright- step one done; now for step two-” Sara mumbles to herself, throwing aside the used staff and pulling out one far more familiar as the shrinking shape on the floor is forced to its knees. “Time for someone to take a little nap.”

The cool sensation of light rain fills the room as the sleep staff activates, and finally, the person that the curse had left behind lays splayed on the floor, face down in the muck, unmoving. Oifey lowers his shield, peering over at Shannan, who wipes sweat from his brow as he straightens up, giggling with nervous energy.

“Are you alright?” the tactician says after clearing his throat, which refuses to untighten from adrenaline. 

“I’m-” Shannan looks around the room, and then down to the body by the wall. “I’m fine- I’m completely fine- Are you?”

“I’m okay- Sara?”

The girl ignores the two men, instead approaching the wall and squatting down, dirtying the hem of her dress as she reaches out to touch the thick hair of the person still laying on the ground. 

“Er- Sara, maybe you shouldn’t touch-”

“That’s an odd tattoo he has, isn’t it?” 

Oifey pauses his sentence, cocking his head. “Tattoo?”

“Oh his back here. He’s got a tattoo of a sword. That’s rather strange, don’t you think?” Sara says quietly before smiling to herself, continuing to run the dark hair through her fingers. In this light, it’s a deep, almost black color- reminiscent of an ocean viewed at night. “Yes. Rather strange.”

---

The glow turned out to be a lantern, held in the hands of a little girl, who was accompanied by a group of men I did not recognize at th e time. I remember having a single conscious thought- wondering why there was a child down here, and then… it became a blur and my animal instinct took over. Again, I tasted iron on my tongue, but before I had the chance to enjoy it, a light stronger than a thousand suns flooded the tunnel, burning away at my body and ripping the scales from my form.

---

“That’s…” Oifey trails off, finding himself at a loss for words. 

Shannan picks up the end of his sentence once again, his face betraying the same amount of confusion and disbelief at Sara’s theory, “... absurd”

The girl shrugs, crossing her legs once more as she reclines on the couch. “Doubt me if you like, but now that all that murderous intent is gone, it's fairly obvious to me that our friend is, perhaps, of a different identity than your book of facts previously assumed.”

“The Twelve have been deceased for nearly a century- what you’re proposing is… impossible,” Oifey breathes, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. “Anyone from my family line would have that mark- I would be more willing to believe that that man is a distant cousin, or perhaps an estranged uncle who got wrapped up in some dark business.”

“Like I said- believe what you please,” Sara shrugs. “But I am privy to a bit more information than either of you- and even when unconscious, he seems to have a very firm idea of who he is. You’re welcome to argue with him when he wakes- which should be soon, by the way. The sleep staff’s effects only last for a few hours.” She stands, stretching out with a theatrical yawn as her spine cracks loudly in protest. “In the meantime, I’m going to get some rest- I have a feeling I’ll be needed in the future for… similar tasks.”

Shannan sits up. “Let me escort you to-” 

“Don’t bother,” Sara interrupts, strutting slowly towards the exit of the parlor. “I already know my way around here- thank you for the directions, Sir Oifey.” She attempts a shallow curtsey before wandering off, leaving the two men in silence once more.

“I never gave her directions,” the tactician mumbles, brain still struggling to create coherent thoughts.

“She’s a mind-reader, that one,” Shannan responds, settling back into the cushions. “Literally. It’s pretty terrifying- no wonder Leif sent her instead of just any old healer.”

“You don’t think she’s telling the truth, do you?” Oifey turns to his husband, who shrugs.

“I mean. He does have a brand.”

“As do I- that doesn’t make me-”

“And he has probably been down there for a while, given the presence of those tunnels…”

“Shannan, you can’t be serious.”

“And he does look just a little bit like the drawings, when you think about it…”

“Okay, that one is definitely not true.”

“Eh, he just needs a little bit of a haircut. Then you’ll see it.”

Oifey sighs, running a hand through his own hair. “I can’t believe this…”

“Hey, if you want, you don’t even have to talk to him. I can handle it.”

“No,” Oifey shakes his head, “No, I think I should at least try to converse a little bit- Gods, how do you even address a Crusader ? What title would one use?”

“I don’t think you should worry about that right now,” Shannan says quietly, scooting closer and sneaking an arm around Oifey’s shoulders. “Just be nice, and remember the ‘strange creature rule of thumb’ that we were always taught as children.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“Just remember,” Shannan starts, lifting his hand into the air, “he’s probably more scared of you than you are of him.”

---

I came to in a bedroom on the surface, and by some miracle, the nightmare was over. A few days of recovery later and I was back on my feet, thanks to Bragi and his quick staffwork. Apparently, Baldr had come for him first specifically so that the girl wouldn’t be put in more danger, but she’s a feisty one, and demanded to come along anyways. Her injuries were light, but she’d been sent home already- I feel bad that I never got the chance to apologize for nearly ripping her arm off. 

---

The next morning, Oifey arrives at the door to the occupied room in the healer’s wing, a peace offering of warm soup balanced carefully in one hand. He hesitates before knocking, struck with the same unsure feeling that had plagued him throughout the night; oh how he looked forward to the day when he’d be able to sleep soundly once again. The sound of shifting fabric from beyond the door snaps him back to reality, and he pushes through the anxiety, tapping lightly on the surface of the door with his knuckles.

“Might I come in?”

The voice on the other side says something, but it’s too quiet to make out over the sounds of the waking castle, so Oifey tries his luck, reaching for the doorknob and slowly entering the room. 

Regardless of identity, the man sitting in the bed looks far better than he had last night. Someone’s gotten him cleaned up, clothed, and healed, and even though his hair is still long enough to trip over, it’s been combed and braided out of the way. The stranger looks at Oifey warily, even as he places the bowl of soup in reach. 

Oifey clears his throat, remembering what Shannan had told him. Nice… Just focus on being nice.

“Are you feeling better?” 

The man blinks, his hands gripping the sheets of the bed tensely. His mouth opens hesitantly, and when he speaks, his voice is rough and quiet, aching with disuse. 

“Yes.”

“That’s good to hear,” Oifey continues, settling into one of the room’s chairs- not the one by the bed, but the one by the window. A comfortable distance away. “You gave us quite a scare- I was hoping… I was hoping you might be able to answer a few questions?”

The stranger looks at him with cautious eyes, and Oifey does his best to smile, aware that he probably looks pained. “You can, uh, have your soup first, if you want. I assume it’s been a while since you had a good meal.”

The bowl is considered, and after a long moment of hesitation, the stranger pulls it into his lap- not eating quite yet, just savoring the warmth of the ceramic against his bandaged hands. Some of the tension leaves his shoulders, and Oifey also relaxes, propping an elbow up onto the windowsill and glancing at the yard below. The hunting dogs are out, playing in their fenced-in little pen. Sara is among them, laying in the grass and laughing, the sound bouncing off the walls and through the castle.

“I should thank you.” The stranger’s voice is quiet. Thoughtful.

“It was no trouble. We would have done the same for anyone.”

“Still… I assumed I’d be there for the rest of my life. I’m grateful- I owe all of you a tremendous favor.”

Oifey shakes his head, closing his eyes. “No- don’t worry about that. Just worry about getting better… really, it was no trouble at all.”

The man hums, easing up a bit as he considers the spoon Oifey had given him. “We’re at Chalphy castle,” he tries, following the other man’s gaze out the window. 

“We are.”

The stranger tries a spoonful of soup, his movements sluggish. “I recognize the view.”

“Oh?”

“There’s houses on that hill now, though.”

Oifey looks past the yard, out towards the low mountains. “That would be the village of Taaniel.”

“Is it new?”

Oifey shakes his head. The stranger leans back, prodding idly at something floating in the soup. “I see.”

They sit in silence as the man finishes his meager meal, eventually putting the bowl back on the table before swinging his legs over the side of the bed, facing Oifey. Someone’s leant him some ill-fitting clothes, and Oifey takes a stray glance at where that ‘strange tattoo’ had been, now covered by white cotton. 

Shannan had been wrong- this man looks very little like the pictures. Perhaps because he’s older, thinner, and much more tired, but the depictions of Baldr were always drawn a certain way. Only now does it occur to Oifey that those pictures were probably modeled of descendants, not the man himself. This man has deep blue hair, darker than Seliph’s by several shades- almost appearing purple in the neutral light of the room, and pale skin dotted with freckles and scars in equal measure. The hollowness of his face was something he maintained between forms, but hopefully, the finished bowl of soup would be the first step to fixing that.

Oifey clears his throat, catching the man’s attention. His eyes are the same color as they’d been when he’d been a lizard- and frighteningly similar to the eyes Oifey remembered on his own mother’s face. 

“If you don’t mind- could I ask… your name?”

“Baldr.”

Oifey nods slowly. “Any relation to… the Crusader that shares that same name?”

Baldr blinks slowly, hands gripping at the legs of his pants. “That’s me.”

“That’s you?”

“I think so.”

“You think so? Wouldn’t you know?”

Baldr considers the window again. “I think it’s been a while since I was here. I don’t know if Crusader means something different now.”

“I’m referring to the heroes from the first Holy War. The soldiers who were blessed by the Gods.”

Baldr flinches at the word ‘blessed’. “Oh. Yes, then. That would be me.”

“That seems rather impossible, don’t you think?” Oifey tries, scratching at the wood of the windowsill with a nervous finger. “I mean, you’re practically my age.”

“I don’t think time passed properly in the tunnels,” Baldr whispers. “It felt like forever, but also like barely a day.”

“Why were you down there in the first place? I wouldn’t think that a Crusader would be the target of such an awful curse.”

“It wasn’t a curse.”

“Wasn’t it?”

“It was the blessing you spoke of,” Baldr mumbles. “The blood of the Gods is a potent thing- not meant for human consumption. I don’t think it was intentional on anyone’s part- just a side-effect…”

“A side-effect..? I have holy blood- my husband does too, even more than I do. Can this happen to anyone?”

Baldr shakes his head. “I don’t know. I wasn’t around long enough to…” He trails off looking around the room. “What year is it?”

“Gran year 780. It’s been a while since the first Holy War.”

“That’s…”  Baldr’s brow furrows as he tries to wrap his head around the number. “Has it happened to anyone else?”

“I don’t know. No one I know personally, but the rest of my family…” Oifey hesitates, considering his words, “... died rather young.”

“Do you hear the voice?”

“The voice?”

“The voice in your head. It’s your instincts- do they talk over you sometimes?”

Oifey shakes his head, upsetting his neatly combed hair. 

“You’re probably fine then. It started when I heard the voice. After that, it wasn’t long before-” Baldr flinches again. They sit in silence for another moment as Oifey turns back to the yard, not wanting to look at the man on the bed. It’s uncomfortable to confront a legend so far from being the idyllic story he was once taught. This isn’t some myth, this is a man- a confused and upset man, at that. He would have to write to Lord Seliph again; perhaps he would know what to do next. 

“Were there others in the tunnels?” He tries, not looking away from the window. 

“I don’t remember. I don’t think so. I ran down there as soon as it started, and I don’t remember much after that.”

Oifey hums. “Do you think the rest of the Twelve also… you know...”

Baldr shifts on the bed, and Oifey looks behind himself just in time to catch the man nodding. “I know they did- Thrud was first, then Nál, and then… it all sort of blends together after that. I assume the rest went the same way.” He looks down at his own hands, playing with the joints of his index finger. “How did you do it?”

“Do what? Lift the curse?”

“Mmm.”

“Well, we called in an expert, and she brought a staff that can get rid of that sort of thing.”

“A staff… Can it be used more than once?”

Oifey shrugs. “I’m not sure. I can ask for you.”

“I would appreciate that.”

Oifey scrutinizes the other man. “You want to go find the others?”

“I think I’d like to, once I’m well.”

“Do you know where they are?”

“Not at all, but… perhaps there are rumors I could follow. I would just have to travel- I’m used to that. I miss it, I think.”

“You don’t want to stay here? Isn’t this your home?”

“I don’t think I ever want to come back here again once I’m healed,” the Crusader admits.

Even above ground, the castle was still thick with memories of despair- at least, that’s what Sara had told her hosts over breakfast. Healing would be hard here. Oifey understands that- he’d had trouble sleeping in his old bed the first few weeks as well, the ghosts of lives lost imprinting themselves on his mind whenever he closed his eyes-

“I think I could understand that,” he answers, watching as Baldr hangs his head. “You don’t have to stay- and I’m sure we could talk Sara into lending you her staff… though, you’d probably have to find someone capable of using it in order to help anyone…”

“Someone capable of using it…” Baldr trails, looking up again, brown eyes squinted in thought. “I think I might know the perfect person for that. I’ll be needing Sara’s help for just a bit longer, though.”

---

And… that brings me to where I am now. The three of us- Bragi, Baldr, and I- we’re going on a little cross-continental trip. There’s been sightings of “horrible lizard-man beasts” all across Jugdral for decades now, and now that we have this staff… I’d quite like to see my friends again. In human forms, preferably. 

I wish I could have seen you one last time, but since that’s impossible… This will be my final goodbye. Again, I hope you’re resting peacefully. While I still have quite a bit to do here… someday, I hope to join you. We’ll have a lot to talk about.

All my best,

Lady Ullr of Yngvi

Ullr