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Deep within the twisting warrens of the Necropolis, Tenar Ingellvar was beginning to panic. The stale air of the crypts, normally a comfort, was choking them.
"A spirit of Curiosity has become corrupted and turned to Malice," Myrna had said. That was then. This was now. Now was the quiet spirit that lived in Tenar's head frantically trying to get out. Their panic bled into Tenar, warping the familiar halls into a prison.
Tenar's breath turned ragged, gasping.
"Rook? Are you alright?" It was Lucanis. Of course it was Lucanis, the last person they wanted seeing them like this, for reasons they were thoroughly unwilling to examine.
"I'm fine," they managed. "Just been getting too much fresh air lately, I think."
"Quite right," Emmrich agreed. "The complex airs of the Necropolis can take some time to become reaccustomed to. Especially after spending one's time outdoors ."
Lucanis seemed unconvinced, but that was the least of Tenar's — Rook's — problems.
It's okay, I promise I won't let anything happen to you , they thought frantically, panic clawing back into their throat.
Malice is wrong, we cannot become that! Please do not bring me there! Please, Tenar, please!
If we don't, other people will get hurt! We have to go! Rook thought.
"Sorry," they said aloud, voice strained, "one of these altars has been trampled by the Venatori. Would you give me a moment to set it right?"
"Of course! Vorgoth did say you were very diligent in your work. Would you care for a hand?" Emmrich's voice seemed fainter, further away.
"That's quite alright, it'll only take a minute," Rook said. They did their best not to sink to their knees as they began organizing the decorations, breathing life back into the bedraggled flowers, repairing the grave goods. Familiar motions. The back of their eyes stung as Curio wept. Rook hummed softly, a lullaby of the crypts. The song sung to them, feverish and frightened, when Curio had saved them.
Tenar didn't hear Lucanis approach (they never did), but they knew when he was next to them (they always did). He crouched, so that he was level with them. The green light of Rook's right eye cast him in a sickly glow.
"You could stay behind, if you need," he said softly.
Please stay behind! Please, Tenar! He is offering!
"I'm perfectly fine," Rook lied. Lucanis was quiet for a moment.
"Spite said something was wrong. He won't tell me what," he said at last. Rook hadn't told Lucanis about Curio. But of course Spite could hear them, this close and this loud.
"I care about the spirits here. It always hurts when one becomes corrupted. When I can't save them," Rook said. Which wasn't a lie, technically. Just not the whole truth. If Lucanis could tell, he didn't say so.
"Are you sure you can fight it, then?" he asked. His eyes were soft, when Rook looked up.
"It has to be me. If it has to die for the safety of others, I would have it die knowing that it was loved," they murmured.
"I…will not pretend I understand. But if you are sure, then I am ready at your word," he said. His hand hovered, briefly, above their shoulder before he seemed to think better of it.
Tenar inhaled deeply, exhaled heavily. Within the deep tombs of their mind, they gently wrapped their arms around the brilliant green spirit that shared their face.
If we can't face this we'll have no chance against gods, they thought. I know you're scared. I am too. But we've got each other. Like always , Rook thought. Curio's wracking sobs quieted, a little.
I am afraid of hurting you, Curio admitted.
Nothing you do could hurt me, my dearest, Tenar thought. Curio was quiet, for a time.
I'm ready, then, they said. Rook stood, dusting the grave dirt from their knees.
"Thank you for your patience," they said politely. Emmrich and Lucanis nodded, and they moved on. Each step seemed heavier than the last as they walked through the looming hallways of the Necropolis. The ornate doors to the Spectral Court seemed heavier than usual. A chill crept up Rook's spine, setting the hair at the nape of their neck on end. Two gloved hands, Lucanis's, appeared next to them to push the door open.
A wave of malevolence slammed into Rook as the doors swung wide. Malice swept through the room. Rook clutched their knife so tightly they felt the hot sting of blood. Their legs moved of their own accord, sprinting directly towards the spirit. The demon. Curio called out once, twice. There was no response. No response, save the cool kiss of spectral hands wrapping around their throat.
"Rook, look out!" It was Lucanis, but he was just a fraction too late. Rook pressed their hands into the spirit's chest, throwing everything they had into a burst of raw magic. They were lifted off their feet and thrown bodily across the room, slamming into a pillar. Bright, hot pain lanced through their skull, shooting down their spine.
We're okay, they thought desperately, dizzily. Curio said nothing, too focused on assessing the damage. The silence meant it was probably bad. Rook rose to their feet unsteadily, swapping to their staff. The familiar buzz of necrotic magic flowed through them, dulling the sharp edges of the pain, for now.
Rook swayed, stumbling. Warm hands caught them, helping them upright. Lucanis.
"We will handle this," he hissed, "stay here."
"No," Rook said, pushing his hands away. They took a swig of a healing potion, as if that would cure what was doubtless a concussion, and sprinted back into the fray.
Rook dodged an incoming bolt of magical energy. Mostly dodged. Frost nipped at their legs, slowing them down. Remaining at a distance, for the moment, they swung their staff into the ground. The grasping hands of the Necropolis's shades reached for the spirit in a flood of necrotic energy. Without a word between them, Lucanis followed up the attack with a sweeping blow of a poisoned blade.
Even unsteady and bleeding out, Rook's practiced eye tracked the changes in the spirit. Its power was rapidly fading, whittled away by the team's attacks. Its movements slowed, becoming less frenetic. Rook more easily dodged its attacks. The cool crypt air kissed their face as they raced forward one last time.
"I'm sorry," Rook whispered, and slammed the bladed end of their staff through the spirit's heart. It froze, sightless eyes fixed on Rook, then faded into nothing. The cloak wrapped around it floated gently to the ground.
And then everything was suddenly, blessedly dark.
The next thing Tenar was aware of was a dull, throbbing pain radiating through their body. The heady smell of incense meant that they were still at home, in the Necropolis. They opened their eyes reluctantly, even the dim candlelight sending lancing pain through their skull. The familiar bustle of the infirmary, their favourite student placement, surrounded them. Skeletal aides clattered by, directed by Mourn Watch healers. Tenar looked around, careful not to move too much.
"You are awake." They wondered if they were imagining the relief laced through Lucanis's voice.
"Kind of wishing I wasn't," they managed. It didn't get the laugh they were hoping for.
"That tends to happen when you crack your skull open. Mierda , Rook, what possessed you to run directly towards an enraged demon?" Lucanis asked.
"I don't know," Tenar admitted.
"Does it have anything to do with you lighting up like a firework? Rook, I spent a year in the Ossuary. I know a possession when I see it," Lucanis hissed, lowering his voice as he leaned forward.
Of course. Of course he would. Foolish, for them to think otherwise. But concussed and with at least one broken bone, Tenar was struggling to find the right words.
"Should've told you," they settled on.
"Why didn't you?"
"I…I don't tell anyone outside of the Necropolis, if I can help it. It's not safe. For me, or for Curio."
Silence fell between them.
"I wish you had told me," Lucanis said eventually.
"Me too," Tenar said, and meant it.
"Is this what was bothering you before?" Lucanis asked quietly.
"Yes. Curio was panicking. Spirits are terrified of seeing other spirits corrupted," Tenar said.
"You showed no sign of it in the Ossuary," Lucanis said. Tenar looked down at their hands, picking at the skin around their nails. Lucanis's hands twitched, but did not move.
"It's harder when it's the same spirit type," Rook explained. "And anyways, you'd just been through far, far worse. I didn't want to add to your burden."
They steeled themself, and looked up. At the best of times, Tenar struggled to read expressions. Whatever was written on Lucanis's face, they couldn't parse it.
"You and…Curio, you have an understanding?" he asked. For the first time in a while, a smile tugged at Tenar's lips.
"You make it sound like we're going steady," they said lightly. Lucanis flushed, ever so slightly.
"You know what I mean," he muttered.
"I think so. How do I put it? When a spirit and its host share characteristics and beliefs, it's easier to work together. To trust each other," Tenar said softly, piecing together lectures and their own research. "You and Spite could be the same way, eventually. That's why you're asking, right?"
Lucanis furrowed his brow in a way they couldn't help finding endearing. He shook his head, and stood.
"You should get some rest," he said. "I'll meet you back at h— at the Lighthouse." Lucanis opened his mouth to say more, then shut it suddenly. He left, too quickly. Tenar screwed their eyes shut, refusing to watch him go again.
So they did not see Lucanis hovering at the doorway. Didn't see him turn around to look at them, hands flexing as he remembered catching them. Didn't see him pacing the pantry, long into the night. And they certainly didn't see him lying awake, replaying the horrible moment where he thought he'd lost them.
When Rook returned to the Lighthouse the next day, everything was exactly like it had been.
Except, of course, that it wasn't.